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PRINCETON  •  NEW  JERSEY 
PRESENTED  BY 

The  Estate  of  the 
Rev,  John  B»  Wiedinprer 


BV  4520  .B877  1916 
Burrell,  David  De  Forest, 

1876- 
Letters  from  the  dominie 


THE    DOMINIE 


LETTERS  FR6lVf'  "  ^.^ 
THE  DOMINIE      ^^ 


DAVID  DE  FOREST  *BURRELL 

Author  of  *' When  the  Blind  Sanv,'* 
^'The  Hermit" s  Christmas/"  etc. 


AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY 

PARK  AVENUE  AND  FORTIETH  STREET 

NEW  YORK  CITY 


Copyright,  1916,  by 
AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY 


FOREWORD 

I  hope  you  know  the  man  to  whom  these 
letters  were  written.  For  he  is  a  fine  fel- 
low, a  strong,  kindly,  sensible,  serviceable 
man.  You  will  find  him  East  and  West,  in 
country  and  city,  in  overalls  and  broad- 
cloth. Indeed,  it  is  good  to  reflect  that  he 
is  far  more  numerous  than  some  pastors,  in 
blue  moments,  suppose. 

The  letters — one  for  every  week  in  the 
year — were  written  to  no  one  man  in  par- 
ticular, but  with  many  men  in  mind  whom 
I  have  known  and  loved,  with  whom  I  have 
talked  of  the  affairs  of  the  Christian  life  and 
the  present-day  Church,  knowing  that  their 
desire  for  the  Kingdom  is  one  with  mine. 
They — the  letters — are  an  attempt  to  convey 
to  the  mind  of  the  devoted  man  in  the  pew 


Foreword 


the  dominie's  point  of  view  on  matters, 
small  and  great,  germane  to  the  Kingdom. 
And  to  this  man  they  are  dedicated,  in  the 
hope  that,  being  born  of  one  dominie's  ex- 
periences and  prayers,  they  may  be  of  some 
small  service  in  solving  the  problems  of  a 
busy  life. 

David  de  Forest  Burrell. 


LETTERS  FROM  THE  DOMINIE 


LETTERS  FROM  THE 
DOMINIE 

The  Manse, 
January  /. 
My  Dear  Friend: 

It  is  not  every  minister  that  has  in  his 
congregation  some  one  who  serves,  as  you 
serve  me,  as  a  safety-valve.  Too  often  the 
man  in  the  pulpit  is  not  in  a  position  to  open 
his  mind  to  any  one — except  his  w^ife! 
These  letters  and  talks  that  pass  between 
yoii  and  me  are  a  great  relief  to  me.  I  can- 
not tell  how  you  feel  about  them,  but  I  dare 
to  hope  that  you,  in  the  pew,  will  not  deem 
the  ink  wasted  that  gives  you  the  point  of 
view  of  the  man  in  the  pulpit. 

So  I  shall  keep  on  writing  you  every 
3 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


week;  and  I  shall  hope  that  somehow  the 
miscellany  may  add  a  modicum  to  the 
happiness  I  wish  you  throughout  the  New 
Year. 

Sincerely  your  friend, 

The  Dominie, 


January  2. 
Dear  Friend: 

Here  is  another  year  begun,  and  another 
host  of  New  Year's  wishes  flying  about  us! 

^^If  wishes  were  horses,  beggars  might 
ride."  How  many  beggars  would  be  gal- 
loping about  our  streets  on  a  New  Year's 
Day!  Or,  horses  having  gone  utterly  out 
of  fashion,  let  us  phrase  it  thus:  "How 
many  automobiles  would  be  flying  about 
town  on  the  first  day  of  the  year — if  wishes 
were  cars !" 

And  yet — ^within  limits — you  can  make 
4 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


certain  oft-used  New  Year's  wishes  come 
true. 

"A  Happy  New  Year  to  you!" — so  your 
friends  have  been  greeting  you.  But  you 
can  do  much  to  make  their  wish  for  you 
come  true.  You  can  begin  the  year  by  for- 
bidding some  things  an  entrance  into  it — 
some  old  habit,  some  little  weakness  or  (to 
you)  greater  one,  some  unkindly  spirit,  some 
selfish  viewpoint  of  long  standing.  Station 
yourself  at  the  door  of  the  year,  keenly 
alert,  courageous  and  determined  enough  to 
bar  the  way  and  cry  to  such,  "No  admis- 
sion!" 

Likewise,  you  can  do  much  to  further 
others'  kindly  wishes  for  you  by  heartily  ad- 
mitting some  things,  giving  them  the  free- 
dom of  the  year,  presenting  them,  as  it  were, 
with  the  keys  of  the  unknown  city.  Certain 
blessed  habits  of  life — prayer,  Bible  study, 
church-going — be  sure  you  open  the  door  to 

5 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


them!  Many  a  wish  for  your  welfare  will 
they  help  to  realize.  And  ^^love,  joy,  peace, 
longsuffering,  kindness,  goodness,  faithful- 
ness, meekness,  self-control;  against  such 
there  is  no  law" ;  open  you  to  them,  there- 
fore, with  the  opening  year!  They,  too, 
will  serve  to  make  it  a  happy  year  indeed. 
Of  what  use  to  wish  happiness  to  him  who  is 
determined  to  maintain  the  old  grudges,  to 
be  governed  by  the  same  selfish  spirit,  that 
spoiled  the  last  year  for  him? 

So  it  seems,  also,  that  you  can  be  of  the 
greatest  assistance  in  making  your  own  New 
Year's  wishes  for  other  people  come  true. 
"A  Happy  New  Year  to  you!"  Truly? 
Do  you  mean  it?  Then  how  far  out  of  your 
way  will  you  go  to  make  it  happy?  You 
say  it  to  the  elevator  boy.  Will  you  prove 
the  wish  by  any  personal  interest  during  the 
year?  You  say  it  to  the  ash-man,  if  you 
cross  his  dusty  steps  on  New  Year's  Day. 

6 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


What  will  you  really  care  about  the  ash- 
man? You  say  it  to  the  servant  in  your 
house.  What  evidence  is  the  New  Year  to 
see  of  your  genuine  interest  in  those  who 
live  under  your  roof  tree?  You  say  it  to 
your  children.  How  far  will  you  make  day 
school  and  Sunday-school  teachers  your  dep- 
uties for  the  care  of  their  souls?  You  say  it 
to  your  neighbors.  Will  the  New  Year  find 
you  with  any  more  unselfish  regard  for 
them?  And  you  express  the  same  wish  for 
the  Church's  New  Year.  What  will  you 
do  to  make  your  wish  a  reality? 

For  my  part,  /  wish  you  a  happy  New 
Year,  a  genuinely  happy  one.  You  remem- 
ber the  "Happy  Psalm"?  It  is  that  happi- 
ness I  wish  you:  "Happy  (that  is  the 
word)  is  the  man  that  walketh  not  in  the 
counsel  of  the  wicked,  nor  standeth  in  the 
way  of  sinners,  nor  sitteth  in  the  seat  of 
scoffers;  but  his  delight  is  in  the  Law  of 

7 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


Jehovah.  .  .  ."  Oh,  happy  man!  This  is 
the  very  happiness  possessed  by  Jesus: 
''My  meat  is  to  do  the  will  of  Him  that  sent 
me."  Such  abiding  happiness  I  wish  you. 
May  He  who  "came  not  to  be  ministered 
unto,  but  to  minister,"  help  us  all  to  follow 
up  our  wishes  with  substantial  proof  of  their 
genuineness ! 

Faithfully  yours, 
The  Dominie, 


January  Q, 
My  Dear  Friend: 

Have  you  watched  the  building  of  our 
new  postofBce?  Day  by  day  its  walls  have 
risen  higher,  day  by  day  it  draws  nearer 
completion;  and  all  because  the  men  en- 
gaged on  the  work  have  been  "on  the  job." 
The  mortar-mixer  has  been  at  his  place  and 
has  done  his  share;  the  hod-carrier  has  bal- 

8 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


anced  his  load  and  made  his  trips  aloft  over 
and  again,  all  day  long;  the  bricklayer 
has  spread  his  mortar  and  eyed  his  plumb- 
line  unceasingly;  and  the  walls  are  going  up. 
There  is  not  a  member  of  this  Church 
who,  after  serious  consideration,  will  not 
agree  that  he  is  supposed  to  be  a  workman 
on  the  walls  of  Jerusalem;  that  is,  that  he 
is  expected  to  be  actually  doing  something 
for  his  Lord.  He  knew  as  much  when  he 
united  with  the  Church;  he  made  public 
promise  to  do  his  part  of  the  work.  There 
is  no  business  obligation  more  sacred  than 
the  obligation  which  rests  upon  every 
Church  member  to  do  some  specific  work 
for  the  Head  of  the  Church.  The  walls  are 
going  up ;  he  has  engaged  himself  as  a  work- 
man; he  is  expected  by  Him  whose  edifice 
it  is,  to  be  busy;  and  he  has  been  given  to 
understand  that  he  must  give  a  reckoning 
at  the  proper  time. 

9 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


I  mention  this  not  only  because  some  peo- 
ple seem  to  forget  it  easily,  but  because  defi- 
nite, earnest  work  for  Christ — real  work — is 
so  obviously  the  cure  for  many  spiritual  ills 
and  wearinesses.  I  will  guarantee  that  any 
sincere  Christian  who  will  discover  a  work 
to  be  done,  and  then  set  himself  to  do  it,  will 
find  that  he  gets  a  new  light  on  the  Bible, 
on  prayer,  on  the  sermons  he  hears,  and  that 
he  gains  a  new  zest  for  life  which  no  other 
tonic  could  give  him.  Spiritual  torpidity 
is  common.  One  good  cure  is — a  specific 
task. 

Incidentally,  some  of  our  happiest  work- 
ers are  those  whose  work  never  brings  them 
before  the  public  eye.  They  do  the  things 
that  do  not  show,  these  inconspicuous 
workers.  God  bless  them!  The  Church 
could  not  live  without  them  any  more  than 
without  those  more  prominent. 

You  told  me  the  other  day  you  hadn't 

ID 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


time  or  strength  to  go  into  religious  work. 
If  you  are  a  Church  member  there  is  but 
one  answer  to  this  objection :  You  ought  to 
make  time  and  save  strength  for  it.  I  ex- 
cept, of  course,  the  few  people  who  are  occa- 
sionally and  exceptionally  restricted  by 
emergencies  in  home  or  office.  For  the 
rest,  a  glance  over  your  week's  docket  will 
show  you  hours  of  wasted  and  misused  time, 
goodly  supplies  of  wasted  or  misapplied 
energy,  which  ought  to  be  diverted  to  chan- 
nels of  genuine  Christian  service  in  the 
Church  and  for  the  world.  A  little  more 
system,  a  little  better  choice,  a  little  sacrifice, 
and  you  will  have  time  and  strength  at 
Christ's  disposal.  You  tell  me  that  you 
cannot  make  room  for  Church  work  in  your 
overcrowded  life.  I  tell  you  frankly,  in  re- 
ply, that  if  you  value  at  all  the  allegiance 
you  have  sworn  to  the  Head  of  the  Church, 
you  must  readjust  matters,  must  rearrange 

II 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


your  life,  to  make  room  for  this  great  part 
of  life's  business. 

And  this  Christian  service  is  the  real  busi- 
ness of  life  for  a  Christian.  Christ  calls 
you  to  do  more  for  Him  than  to  merely  earn 
your  bread  and  butter.  Stop  and  think: 
are  you  actually  doing  anything  at  all  for 
Him? 

Sincerely  as  always, 

The  Dominie, 


January  l6. 
My  Friend: 

That  was  a  wonderful  experience  we  had 
at  the  great  evangelistic  meeting  Friday 
night.  I  have  had  it  in  my  mind  ever  since. 
I  suppose  you  also  have. 

Novelty  in  religious  matters  is  strangely 
startling.  The  method  that  is  different,  the 
manner  that  is  unconventional,  will  always 

12 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


jar  upon  most  of  us.  We  are  satisfied  with 
doing  "the  proper  thing,"  and  are  accord- 
ingly shocked  by  any  overstepping  of  the 
bounds  of  what  is  customary.  Perhaps  you 
recall  the  man  who,  when  told  that  he  had 
appendicitis,  looked  up  in  the  surgeon's  face 
and  asked,  "Is  an  operation  necessary?" 
"No,"  said  the  surgeon,  "it  is  not  necessary; 
it  is  customary."  And  many  of  us  are  will- 
ing thus  to  follow  the  conventions — at  cost 
of  an  appendix  or  a  soul. 

You  were  shocked  at  what  you  called  "the 
capers"  of  the  great  evangelist  we  heard  the 
other  night.  I  can  easily  see  why.  You 
like  a  formal  service;  and  you  feel  injured 
by  any  irregularity  or  interruption.  You 
like  a  formal  prayer,  correct,  chastely  ex- 
pressed, dignified ;  and  you  feel  as  if  the  man 
who  addresses  God  with  "You"  instead  of 
"Thou"  were  insulting  God.  I  can  imagine 
too  (for  we  know  each  other  well  enough 

13 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


for  this  sort  of  talk)  that  you  would  shudder 
at  the  bare  suggestion  of  an  English  Bible 
in  our  modern  English. 

There  are  many  like  you,  easily  shocked 
by  unconventionality  or  novelty.  When,  in 
the  pulpit  of  an  ordinarily  quiet,  self-con- 
tained church,  anything  out  of  the  ordinary 
is  done,  the  same  unpleasant  effect  is  pro- 
duced on  a  goodly  number. 

I  hear  you  calling  me  a  heretic,  an  icono- 
clast, when  I  say  I  cannot  see  the  reasonable- 
ness of  this  attitude.  Oh,  yes,  I  love  a  beau- 
tiful, formal  service  as  dearly  as  any  High 
Churchman;  and  I  am,  too,  a  born  (and 
bred)  conservative,  through  and  through; 
and  yet  the  longer  I  preach,  the  more  I  min- 
ister to  our  good,  conventional  people,  the 
more  convinced  am  I  that  this  sort  of  thing 
will  never  win  the  world.  Indeed,  I  do  not 
mind  going  further  and  saying  that  it  is  this 
very   spirit   of   convention    and   propriety 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


that  is  tying  up  the  gospel,  throttling  the 
Church! 

I  tell  you,  conventionality  costs.  It  costs 
a  great  deal.  I  could  name  many  who  get 
absolutely  nothing  out  of  the  Church  service 
because  the  conventions  in  the  Church  where 
they  worship  have  sapped  all  that  was  worth 
while  in  it.  There  are  many  to  whom  the 
Bible  is  a  closed  book  because  it  is  not  given 
them  in  the  English  in  which  they  think. 
There  are  others  who  have  such  a  false  rev- 
erence for  the  Bible  that  they  treat  it  as  a 
fetich  instead  of  a  fountain.  There  are 
still  others  who,  though  they  say  their  for- 
mal prayers,  never  pray,  just  because  they 
never  talk  their  own  simple  language  to 
God.  Formalism  and  conventionality  take 
the  very  life  out  of  religion. 

There  is  a  good  deal  to  be  said,  not  for  any 
irreverence  toward  anything  sacred,  but  for 
a  simple,  straightforward  dealing  with  God 

15 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


which  can  forget  forms  and  ceremonies  and 
plunge  into  the  deep  heart  of  things. 

There  is  an  unconventionality  in  religion 
that  is  undoubtedly  wrong.  It  is  that  of  the 
fakir,  of  the  fanatic,  who  does  that  or  says 
that  which  is  clearly  immoral  or  irreverent. 
Here  is  no  question  of  good  taste,  mind 
you,  but  just  the  cleancut  question  of  a 
breach  of  the  moral  law  or  an  insult  to  God. 

But  there  is  a  sort  of  unconventionality  in 
religion  into  which  the  mere  question  of 
good  taste  enters.  And  here  the  answer  to 
the  charge  of  impropriety  is  easily  found. 
Given  a  sufficient  reason,  many  of  the  ordi- 
nary (and  often  arbitrary)  conventions  may 
be  over-ridden  without  hesitation.  David's 
w^ife  Michal  sneered  at  him  for  dancing  be- 
fore the  ark  when  that  sacred  symbol  was 
brought  back  home.  And  David  said :  "It 
was  before  Jehovah,  who  chose  me,  ...  to 
appoint   me    prince    over    the    people    of 

i6 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


Jehovah.  .  .  .  And  I  will  be  yet  more  vile 
than  this,  and  will  be  base  in  my  own  sight: 
but  ...  I  shall  be  had  in  honor!"  There 
are  times  when  it  is  not  a  man's  business  to 
bow  to  every  convention,  times  when  he 
ought  to  do  the  extraordinary  and  startling 
thing,  if  by  doing  it  he  can  draw  men  to 
the  service  of  God.  So  Paul  said  he  was 
"willing  to  be  all  things  to  all  men." 

It  is  time  for  us  to  wonder  if  there  is  not 
often  more  hindrance  than  reverence  in 
some  of  our  conventions  and  our  solemn  pro- 
prieties. The  one  great  thing  is  to  reach 
men  with  the  gospel.  If  we  can  do  it  to- 
day only  after  breaking  through  some  of  our 
time-honored  Church  customs,  then  the  cus- 
toms will  have  to  be  broken,  that  is  all.  We 
must  reach  men!  We  must  set  men  afire! 
And  if  the  usual  formalities  of  the  Church 
service,  the  customary  method  of  attack,  will 
not  serve,  then  we  must  be  willing  to  be 

17 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


mountebanks,  if  need  be,  for  Christ's  sake  I 
There  is  a  man — I  do  not  know  his  name 
— who  stands  on  a  soap-box  every  noon  and 
preaches  to  the  Wall  Street  crowds.  I 
honor  him;  and — I  make  you  my  confessor 
— sometimes,  skirting  the  crowd  about  him, 
I  have  felt  myself  futile.  His  soap-box  on 
a  street  corner  in  the  busy  world  puts  my 
conventional  pulpit  to  shame. 

Sensationalism?  There  was  a  time  when 
I  was  afraid  of  the  word.  You,  old  friend, 
are  still  in  dread  of  it.  It  frightens  me  no 
longer;  and  I  pray  daily  that  you,  and  all 
the  rest  of  my  people,  may  see  more  clearly 
the  purpose  of  the  Church  in  the  world. 
When  you  do,  the  old  bugaboo  of  ^^propri- 
ety" will  have  no  more  power  over  you. 
That  is  proper  in  Church  which  will  best 
serve  to  advance  the  Kingdom  of  your  dear 
Lord  and  mine.  Cordially, 

The  Dominie. 
i8 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


Dear  Friend:  January  23, 

You  asked  me  the  other  day  whether  it 
was  not  hard  to  offer  prayer  in  church. 

It  is  hard.  In  fact,  preaching  is  a  sim- 
pler matter  for  a  conscientious  minister  than 
praying — that  is,  praying  in  the  church  serv- 
ice. There  are  so  many  people  in  church, 
with  so  many  things  to  be  thankful  for,  so 
many  wants  to  be  filled,  so  many  burdens  to 
be  lifted ;  and  the  man  in  the  pulpit  is  only 
one  man.  It  takes  all  one's  power  of  sym- 
pathy, all  one's  deepest  interest,  to  try  to  lay 
before  the  throne  of  grace  all  these  long- 
ings and  desires. 

But  if  the  dominie's  part  is  a  difficult  one, 
the  part  of  the  man  in  the  pew  is  no  easier. 
It  is  hard  to  concentrate  one's  thoughts, 
harder  to  appropriate  another's  words.  I 
have  sat  in  the  pew  too  often  not  to  know  the 
pull  at  one's  eyelids,  the  paroxysm  of  rest- 

19 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


lessness  that  suddenly  seizes  upon  mind  and 
body  during  what  the  old-fashioned  people 
call  ''the  long  prayer."  And  the  voice 
heard  from  the  pulpit  does  not  always,  for* 
all  the  minister's  desire,  utter  what  is  deep- 
est in  the  silent  worshipper's  heart. 

And  yet  it  is  not  one  man  praying,  but  a 
congregation  uniting  in  prayer.  When  you 
hear  me  say,  "Let  us  unite  in  prayer,"  you 
may  know  that  I  mean  exactly  what  I  say. 
The  glory  of  the  situation  lies  in  the  unity  of 
thought  and  desire  on  the  part  of  the  whole 
roomful.  I  am  but  your  spokesman.  We 
are  all  together  talking  with  our  Father  con- 
cerning the  deep,  essential  things  of  life !  If 
a  man  can  once  force  himself  to  remain  con- 
scious of  this  fact,  the  minister's  prayer  will 
be  no  longer  to  him  a  perfunctory  part  of  the 
service.  It  will  be  worship  in  truth;  and 
more,  it  will  be  fellowship. 

There  is  another  point.    Your  attitude  to- 
20 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


ward  the  other  folk  in  the  pews  has  a  great 
deal  to  do  with  your  appreciation  of  the 
prayers  from  the  pulpit.  I  know  something 
about  the  silly  old  unchristian  grudges 
and  spites  in  some  minds  in  the  congrega- 
tion ;  and  I  cannot  for  the  life  of  me  see  how 
those  who  nurse  them  so  tenderly  can  im- 
agine that  they  are  in  a  mood  for    prayer. 

How  can  Mrs.  (I  name  no  names) 

^^unite  in  prayer"  with  Mrs.  Blank  when 
they  dislike  each  other  so  cordially?  How 
can  a  certain  prosperous  man  ^'unite  in 
prayer"  with  the  man  he  is  trying  to  ^'put 
one  over  on"  in  business?  Oh,  no!  prayer 
in  concert  demands  minds  in  harmony  and 
hearts  in  sympathy.  One  ought  to  be  able 
to  say  to  himself,  when  part  of  the  dominie's 
prayer  does  not  fit  him  at  all,  "Ah,  but  that's 
a  prayer  for  So-and-so,  and  there's  a  petition 
for  poor  Such-and-such;  and  I'll  say  'Amen' 

to  all  r 

21 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


Oh,  my  friend,  when  I  pray  from  the  pul- 
pit, pray  with  me  from  the  pew!  Put  your 
mind  to  it:  it  is  your  prayer,  certainly  some 
of  it  is;  to  what  fits  you,  and  to  what  fits 
others,  say  in  your  heart  a  strong  "Amen!" 
which  is  to  say,  "So  may  it  be!"  Never 
leave  yourself  out  of  the  blessed  circle  of 
those  who  truly  pray  together  in  church. 

Heartily  yours. 
The  Dominie, 


January  JO. 
My  Dear  Friend: 

My  downtown  luncheon  with  you  on  Fri- 
day was  a  great  pleasure  to  me.  It  is  hard 
nowadays  for  the  parson  to  get  in  close 
touch  with  the  men  of  his  congregation,  and 
he  welcomes  every  opportunity.  And  you 
know  how  much  easier  it  is  to  warm  up  over 
a  good  meal ! 

22 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


Do  you  remember  the  ''sandwich  man" 
we  passed  as  we  came  out  of  the  restaurant? 
A  poor  broken  remnant  of  a  man,  shabby, 
out  at  heels,  red  at  nose,  with  a  great  oblong 
sign  hanging  from  his  neck  in  front  and  the 
mate  to  it  hanging  down  behind.  He  ad- 
vertised So-and-so's  Blacking,  or  What's- 
his-Name's  Dental  Parlors,  or  something  of 
that  sort. 

Verily;  but  he  advertised  other  things, 
and  most  effectively  too.  I  haven't  been 
able  to  forget  his  looks.  He  was  a  walking 
recommendation  of  the  terrors  and  pinch- 
ings  of  poverty;  the  truest  "ad"  in  the  world 
for  the  corner  saloon;  a  living  proclamation 
of  the  slavery  of  a  vile  habit.  And  he  was 
doing  all  this  advertising  without  knowing 
it!  In  fact,  even  if  he  did  know  it,  he 
couldn't  help  himself! 

This  is  not  a  sermon  on  bad  habits.  It  is 
a  talk  on  unconscious  advertising  as  per- 

23 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


formed  by  all  the  members  of  this  church. 
Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that  you  are  a 
seven-days-a-week  advertiser,  for  good  or 
bad?  You  act  as  if  you  have  done  your  full 
duty  to  the  church  when  you  have  gone  to 
the  morning  service  on  Sunday?  Then 
Jones,  your  neighbor,  reads  your  advertising 
and  discounts  the  value  of  your  church. 
You  fail  to  use  the  Church  Calendar? 
Jones  reads,  not  the  "Calendar,''  but  your 
advertising  of  it  as  not  worth  reading.  You 
ignore  the  evening  service?  So  does  Jones 
— on  your  advertising  of  its  insignificance. 
You  gossip  about  the  affairs  of  your  church, 
or  decry  the  actions  of  some  member  or  or- 
ganization in  it?  Jones  is  there,  reading 
your  advertising  and  discounting  your 
church.  You  insist  upon  ''personal  free- 
dom," and  deliberately  continue  the  doing 
of  things  worldly  or  worse?  Jones  reads 
the  signs,  and  on  the  basis  of  your  advertis- 

24 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


ing  he  discounts  not  merely  the  power  of 
your  church  for  good,  but  the  saving  power 
of  your  Saviour,  whom  your  advertising  dis- 
honors! 

My  friend,  your  sandwich  man  takes  off 
his  signboards  at  times,  but  you  can't  take 
yours  off!  You  are  a  living  advertisement 
for  or  against  the  Church  and  Christ  Jesus. 

What  kind  of  advertising  do  you  propose 
to  do  in  the  future? 

Cordially  yours, 

The  Dominie, 


February  6. 
My  Dear  Friend: 

I  have  been  reading  an  old  story  by  way  of 
preparation  for  the  Sacrament,  the  story  of 
the  wanderings  of  Israel  in  the  wilderness. 
No  wonder  the  Fathers  found  in  it  such  a 
symbol  of  the  life  of  the  godly  man.    What 

25 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


a  fine  parallel  it  is,  with  all  its  adventures, 
its  misadventures,  its  various  disciplines! 

But  the  best  of  it  is  Elim. 

A  great  horde  of  people,  men,  women  and 
children,  with  their  servants,  their  flocks 
and  herds,  their  beasts  of  burden  laden  with 
all  manner  of  household  belongings,  all 
trudging  wearily  along  through  mile  after 
mile  of  dreary,  sandy  waste,  with  the  hot  sun 
beating  down  upon  them,  burning  thirst 
parching  their  throats,  children  crying  for 
a  drop  of  water; — then,  suddenly,  above  the 
shoulder  of  a  sandhill,  a  glimpse  of  the  slen- 
der green  tops  of  palm-trees,  a  mad  rush  of 
the  thirsty  multitude,  the  sparkle  of  clear 
waters  under  the  palms,  the  blessed  feeling 
of  cool  water  on  parched  tongue  and  throat! 
So  "they  came  to  Elim,  where  were  twelve 
springs  of  water,  and  threescore  and  ten 
palm-trees:  and  they  encamped  there  by  the 
waters." 


26 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


That  is  just  what  happens  to  those  who 
rightly  partake  of  the  Lord's  Supper.  One 
of  the  oldest  figures  ever  employed  to  de- 
scribe life  is  the  figure  of  a  journey.  It  is 
accurate.  We  pass  through  the  events  of 
day  after  day  as  one  passes  along  a  highway, 
meeting  all  manner  of  adventures  and  peo- 
ple, confronting  all  sorts  of  obstacles;  now 
finding  the  way  smooth,  now  rough;  and 
ever  in  need  of  rest  and  refreshment  for 
body,  mind  and  soul,  ever  seeking,  con- 
sciously or  unconsciously,  the  cooling  waters 
of  Elim.  Our  souls  crave  something  differ- 
ent from  what  our  work-a-day  activities 
give,  something  far  better,  more  substantial. 
We  deal  daily  in  things  that  parch  our 
thirsty  souls. 

"What  mean  dull  souls,  in  this  high  measure 
To  haberdash 
In   earth's    base   wares,   whose   greatest 
treasure 
Is  dross  and  trash!'* 
27 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


Let  us  be  clear.  It  is  not  merely  change, 
but  genuine  refreshment,  life  itself,  that  we 
need  I 

And  this  genuine  increase  of  spiritual  vi- 
tality is  his  who  comes  believing  to  the 
Lord's  Table.  The  Lord's  Supper  has  as 
truly  a  practical  value  in  terms  of  spiritual 
life  as  had  the  springs  of  Elim  in  terms  of 
physical  life.  It  is  not  because  it  has  a 
magic  value  in  it;  for  it  has  none.  It  is  be- 
cause it  is  the  picture,  the  symbol,  of  that 
which  means  life  to  the  believer,  the  death 
of  Jesus,  who  "bore  our  sins  in  His  own 
body  on  the  tree."  It  is  because  it  is  the 
Christ-given  pledge  of  the  forgiveness  of 
our  sins.  It  is  because  it  is  a  real  channel 
of  Christ's  grace.  He  who  comes  thought- 
fully, prayerfully,  expectantly  to  the  Lord's 
Supper  will  have  his  parched  soul  refreshed. 

*'Thou  of  life  the  Fountain  art, 
Freely  let  me  take  of  Thee. 
28 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


Spring  Thou  up  within  my  heart ; 
Rise  to  all  eternity  1'* 

Cordially, 

The  Dominie, 


February  /J. 
My  Dear  Friend: 

Do  you  know  that  pleasant  feeling  of  "let- 
ting down"  at  home? 

Yesterday  I  called  at  a  certain  house 
whose  head  explained  his  very  slipshod  ap- 
pearance with  the  remark  that  he  thought 
a  home  was  not  a  home  if  a  man  couldn't 
"let  down''  in  it. 

I  agree  wdth  him — up  to  a  certain  point. 
If  we  have  a  right  to  ease  and  informality 
anywhere,  it  is  at  home.  An  easy  jacket 
and  slippers  are  symbols  of  one  of  the  deep- 
est pleasures  of  home,  the  right  to  relax,  to 
ease  off  the  tension  of  life. 

29 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


But  there  are  too  many  husbands  and 
wives  who  seem  to  feel  that  this  privilege 
confers  a  license  to  do,  and  say,  and  be,  a 
good  many  things  which  they  would  not 
dare  abroad. 

Some  men,  when  they  come  home,  pro- 
ceed to  "let  down"  with  a  vengeance. 
Throughout  the  day  they  have  shown  them- 
selves considerate,  careful  of  others'  inter- 
ests ;  but  good  manners  are  hung  up  on  the 
hat-rack  with  their  overcoats.  The  man 
who  will  not  let  his  clerk  wear  his  hat  in  the 
office  will  wear  his  own  hat  about  the  house 
in  his  wife's  presence.  With  peculiar 
denseness  he  assumes  that  the  affairs  of  the 
home  are  far  beneath  "business"  in  impor- 
tance. Although  at  the  office  he  is  cool, 
temperate,  patient,  here  at  home  he  grum- 
bles at  his  supper,  growls  at  his  wife,  snaps 
at  the  children,  feels  privileged  to  lose  his 
temper,  and  behaves  on  the  whole  more 

30 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


like  a  savage  than  a  Christian  gentleman. 

'^But  she's  my  wife!  They're  my  chil- 
dren!" 

Precisely,  and  therefore  entitled  to  every 
true  courtesy.  Whatever  politeness  a  man 
shows  to  women  outside  of  his  home,  he 
owes  the  same  a  hundred-fold  to  the  one 
woman  at  home. 

And  the  women?  I  am  afraid  that  some 
of  them  seize  the  same  unwarranted  license. 
On  their  best  behavior  all  day  away  from 
home,  they  have  to  ^4et  down"  on  their  re- 
turn, if  it  is  only  to  take  their  turn  snapping 
at  the  younger  generation — and  the  cook — 
or  pouring  out  upon  a  tired  husband's  de- 
voted head  all  the  flood  of  petty  ills  and 
vexations  accumulated  during  the  day. 

And  the  children?  It  goes  without  say- 
ing that  they,  too,  learn  to  take  full  license 
in  ^^etting  down."  Indeed,  in  too  many 
homes  they  are  taught  that  common  phi- 
31 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


losophy  which  would  have  one  easy  set  of 
manners  for  home  use  and  another,  very 
proper,  very  different,  for  use  elsewhere. 
Whereas  I  have  an  idea  that  Jesus  would 
expect  a  child  to  treat  his  own  mother  with 
as  fine  a  courtesy  as  he  would  employ  to- 
wards his  hostess  at  a  children's  party. 

What  is  back  of  it  all?  Partly  pure  self- 
ishness. It  is  easier  to  "let  down,"  to  lose 
control,  to  slip  to  a  lower  level,  than  to  be 
patient,  considerate,  kindly.  And  partly 
the  reason  is  the  superficiality  of  the  good 
manners  exhibited  in  public.  They  are 
"party  manners,"  truly;  they  are  never 
shown  at  home.  But  it  is  the  real  man,  the 
real  woman,  that  is  disclosed  by  the  "letting 
down"  in  the  domestic  circle.  This  Mr. 
Propriety  and  Mrs.  Politeness  who  are  seen 
abroad,  so  suave,  so  well-mannered,  they  are 
not  the  real  people,  but  actors,  made  up  for 
public  view ;  at  home,  off  come  the  masks ! 

32 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


God  save  us  from  this  lif e-on-two-levels ! 
Let  us  be  true  Christian  gentle-folk  at  heart, 
and  save  ourselves  the  trouble  of  putting  on 
mask  or  '^make-up"  v^hen  we  go  abroad. 
Semper  idem!  It  is  a  refinement  of  hypoc- 
risy that  cannot  extend  to  those  v^ho  should 
be  dearest  the  same  outward  marks  of  re- 
gard and  courtesy  that  are  shown  to  others 
less  near.  Let  us  train  ourselves  to  ^'let 
down"  at  home  without  falling  below  the 
proper  level  of  followers  of  Him  who 
"pleased  not  Himself." 

Sincerely,  as  always, 
The  Dominie 


February  20, 
My  Friend: 

Not  a  hundred  miles  from  my  threshold 
there  dwells  a  man  of  a  certain  peculiarity. 
It  cropped  out  when  the  heavy  snowfall 
33 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


came  to  an  end  yesterday.  I  happened  to 
see  him  shovelling  ofif  his  walk.  When  he 
reached  the  point  where  his  walk  ended  and 
his  neighbor's  began,  he  very  carefully  lined 
it  off  with  his  snow-shovel,  shovelled  ac- 
curately to  the  line,  then  turned  and 
marched  back  to  the  house  in  conscious  rec- 
titude. He  had  shovelled  to  the  line,  very 
careful  not  to  clear  an  inch  beyond  it.  He 
had  done  his  share,  precisely,  fully;  now  let 
Mr.  Neighbor  look  to  his  own  share! 

It  happened  that,  a  few  minutes  after  this 
characteristic  performance,  I  was  glancing 
over  a  pamphlet  that  had  come  in  the  morn- 
ing mail.  I  was  struck  by  one  pregnant 
sentence:  ^'The  very  essence  of  the  Chris- 
tian spirit  is  going  beyond  what  might  justly 
be  considered  one's  own  part,  picking  up 
and  carrying  the  load  which  others  have 
selfishly  or  carelessly  thrown  off." 

That  is  true.  In  the  matter  of  Christian 
34 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


service  the  attitude  we  too  often  take  is  that 
of  my  neighbor — very  much  afraid  that  in 
shovelling  our  ov^n  sidewalk  we  may  inad- 
vertently go  an  inch  or  two  beyond  our  line 
and  clean  that  much  of  our  neighbor's  walk. 
We  are  so  fearful  lest  inadvertently  we 
might  do  a  little  more  church  work  than 
some  one  else.  We  excuse  ourselves,  on 
that  ground,  from  larger  activity.  "There 
IS  Mr.  Idle;  he  has  more  time  than  I  have; 
why  don't  you  ask  him  to  do  this  work? 
No  use  asking  me  to  do  more;  I  won't  take 
on  any  extra  work  until  I  see  Mr.  Sloth  and 
Mrs.  Froth  doing  more  than  they  are  do- 
ing." 

When  it  comes  to  giving  do  we  not  follow 
out  the  same  silly  course  of  reasoning? 
Our  standard  of  comparison  is  the  giving  of 
our  neighbors.  "Don't  ask  me  to  give  any 
more  money  to  benevolences  until  Mr. 
Mean  begins  to  give  something."  "There's 
35 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


Mr.  Wealthy;  he  has  ten  times  my  income, 
and  I'm  giving  more  now  than  he  is."  And 
so  it  goes:  we  compare  our  gifts  with  our 
neighbors',  coming  to  the  very  satisfactory 
conclusion  that  we  are  "doing  our  share,  if 
not  more  than  our  share." 

God  forgive  us,  this  is  no  way  in  which  to 
approach  the  Saviour's  business!  It  is  not 
a  question  of  "giving  our  share,"  but  a  ques- 
tion of  giving  and  doing  all  we  can.  "Who- 
soever would  save  his  life"  (being  careful 
to  do  no  more  than  his  share)  "shall  lose  it; 
and  whosoever  shall  lose  his  life"  (spending 
it  without  stint,  without  comparison  with  his 
neighbor's  service)  "for  My  sake,  shall  find 
it." 

Imagine — if  you  can — our  Saviour  view- 
ing his  redemptive  work  with  the  same  cal- 
culating eye  with  which  we  view  our  work 
for  Him!  "Empty  myself?  Take  the 
form  of  a  servant?    Be  made  in  the  likeness 

36 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


of  men?  Humble  myself?  Become  obe- 
dient unto  death,  yea,  the  death  of  the  cross? 
Why  should  I?  It  is  more  than  my  share." 
That  was  not  Christ's  way:  "For  ye 
know  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
that,  though  He  was  rich,  yet  for  your  sakes 
He  became  poor,  that  ye  through  His  pov- 
erty might  become  rich."  Nor  is  it  the  way 
of  the  Christian:  "Whosoever  would  be- 
come great  among  you  shall  be  your  min- 
ister; and  whosoever  would  be  first  among 
you  shall  be  servant  of  all."  In  this  service 
there  is  no  place  for  "comparative  tables." 
The  sole  question,  in  relation  to  gifts  and 
work,  is  the  one  the  individual  must  put  to 
his  own  heart:  "Am  I  doing  as  much,  giv- 
ing as  much,  as  I  can?" 


Sincerely  your  friend, 

The  Dominie, 
37 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


February  2'J. 
My  Friend: 

Somehow  it  irritates  me  almost  unreason- 
ably to  find  a  man  of  your  calibre  skeptical 
or  merely  cold  on  the  subject  of  foreign  mis- 
sions.    It  argues  a  distorted  vision. 

Much  depends  on  how  far  one  can  see 
clearly.  If  the  submarine  had  good  eye- 
sight it  would  be  a  thousandfold  more  effect- 
ive. The  locomotive  must  have  not  only  a 
skilled  hand  on  the  throttle,  but  a  pair  of 
clear,  vigilant  eyes  at  the  window.  And  the 
Church,  to  be  most  effective,  must  be  pos- 
sessed of  a  multitude  of  men  and  women 
who  can  see  around  the  world. 

That  is  the  range  of  the  true  Christian's 
vision — around  the  world,  no  less.  For 
that  was  the  range  of  Jesus'  vision  when  he 
established  his  Kingdom — "all  the  world, 
.  .  .  the  whole  creation."    That  was  the 

38 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


range  of  prophetic  vision  before  Jesus: 
*^A11  nations  shall  serve  Him;  ...  all  na- 
tions shall  call  Him  happy."  That  was  the 
range  of  apostolic  vision  after  Jesus:  ''The 
gospel  ...  is  the  power  of  God  unto  sal- 
vation ...  to  the  Jew,  and  also  to  the 
Greek."  PauPs  vision  embraces  Asia 
Minor,  reaches  out  to  Macedonia,  on  to 
Italy,  Spain — where  will  this  end?  There 
is  no  end  save  "the  ends  of  the  earth." 
Christian  vision  sees  a  world  hungry  for  the 
Saviour,  and  a  Saviour  hungry  for  the 
world. 

The  eyesight  of  some  of  the  women  of  this 
church  has  been  growing  sharper  during 
this  past  year.  The  meetings  of  the  Mis- 
sionary Society  and  the  Federation  for  Mis- 
sion Study  have  been  of  inestimable  value 
in  correcting  vision.  To-day  in  this  congre- 
gation eyes  that  were  formerly  focused  al- 
ways on  the  near  foreground,  eyes  that  never 

39 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


saw  at  a  distance,  are  seeing  around  the 
world. 

The  woman  who  congratulates  herself 
that  she  is  broadminded  because  she  fixes 
her  eyes  on  local  interests,  pitying  her  nar- 
row sister  who  works  in  the  Missionary  So- 
ciety, has  much  to  learn.  For  breadth  and 
depth  of  human  interest  commend  me,  every 
time,  to  the  woman  whose  eyes  are  adjusted 
to  objects  not  only  near  but  afar,  the  woman 
who  sees  as  Jesus  sees,  around  the  world. 

And  what  is  true  of  our  women  ought 
even  more  to  be  true  of  the  men.  The  aver- 
age man  has,  I  think,  a  broader  vision  than 
the  average  woman,  simply  because  his 
world  is  a  larger  world.  He  ought,  there- 
fore, to  be  the  more  willing  to  cultivate  a 
vision  of  a  world-encircling  gospel.  Yet 
you,  with  others  of  our  thinking,  success- 
ful men,  so  broad-minded  in  other  fields, 
decline  to  be  interested.     As  I  said,  it  irri- 

40 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


tates  me,  it  is  so  unreasonable  for  a  Chris- 
tian man! 

I  once  heard  a  great  man  say  that  mission 
study  was  the  most  broadening  influence  to 
be  had.  Ex-President  Taft  and  ex-Presi- 
dent Roosevelt  say  practically  the  same 
thing.  It  is  true.  Jesus  cries  to  the 
Church,  "Lift  up  your  eyes  and  look  on  the 
fields";  and  that  particular  congregation 
that  lifts  up  its  eyes  and  looks  beyond  its  own 
parish,  beyond  its  own  land,  beyond  the  seas, 
girdling  the  earth  with  its  vision,  is  abso- 
lutely sure  to  be  bigger,  stronger,  kindlier, 
more  zealous,  more  successful  than  its  near- 
sighted neighbor.  There  is  small  Chris- 
tianity in  a  vision  like  that  of  Longfellow's 
children  at  their  porridge: 

^'Steadfast  they  gaze,  yet  nothing  see 
Beyond  the  horizon  of  their  bowls; 
Naught  care  they  for  the  world  that  rolls 


41 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


With  all  its  freight  of  human  souls, 
Into  the  days  that  are  to  be." 

Man,  man,  look  up !  Look  out  over  the 
world!  Train  your  eyes  to  see  as  the  Sa- 
viour sees!  With  all  my  heart  I  urge  you, 
as  a  thoughtful  and  capable  man,  to  look  se- 
riously into  this  matter  of  missions.  Read 
up  on  it.  Listen  to  the  statesmanlike  ad- 
dresses you  can  hear  on  it.  Invest  in  it. 
And  this  for  your  own  development  as  well 
as  for  the  sake  of  the  Kingdom  of  Christ. 

Yours  as  always. 
The  Dominie, 


March  5. 
Dear  Friend: 

So  you  think  me  unpractical  because  I  in- 
sist that  it  may  be  a  man's  duty  to  throw 
away  his  ballot  by  voting  for  some  one  who 

42 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


cannot  be  elected  rather  than  vote  for  a  less 
fit  man? 

I  am  not  so  sure.  There  is  a  high  ideal- 
ism that  has  been  the  glory  of  our  nation  and 
is  its  glory  in  this  world-crisis.  And  I  be- 
lieve that  what  I  advocate  may  become,  at 
the  ballot  box,  the  duty  of  every  high- 
souled  citizen. 

I  found  a  brother  minister  last  week  pre- 
paring to  speak  to  his  people  on  ^'The  Effi- 
cient Ballot."  That  is  a  fine  phrase,  worth 
remembering — and  applying.  You  say 
your  ballot  is  efficient  because  you  vote  for 
a  man  who,  while  you  do  not  approve  of  his 
affiliations  and  record,  has  nevertheless  a 
good  chance  of  being  elected.  I  say  that,  on 
the  contrary,  the  ballot's  efficiency  is  to  be 
measured  by  the  principles  for  which  the 
candidate  stands,  no  matter  what  his  chance 
of  being  elected. 

In  1858  my  grandfather  voted  for  Lin- 
43 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


coin  against  Douglas,  and — as  his  neigh- 
bors told  him — ''threw  away  his  vote"  on  a 
beaten  candidate.  But  in  i860  he  voted  for 
Lincoln;  Lincoln  went  into  the  White 
House ;  and  ever  after  my  grandfather  was 
proud  of  the  fact  that  he  had  cast  his  ballot 
in  '58  for  the  man  who  was  the  right  man, 
though  he  was  sure  of  defeat. 

Was  that  first  vote  thrown  away?  Not  a 
bit  of  it!  A  vote  cast  for  the  right  man,  de- 
spite the  outcries  of  all  the  prophets  of  "ex- 
pediency," is  never  thrown  away.  It  is  cast 
on  God's  side,  and  God  will  win  out  in  the 
long  run. 

We  want  the  right  to  triumph,  you  and  I. 
We  are  after  righteousness  and  justice,  and 
we  must  vote,  not  for  what  will  give  us  a 
little  temporary  relief,  but  for  what  will,  in 
the  long  run,  bring  in  the  reign  of  right. 

"Woe  betide  us  everywhere,"  cried  Car- 
lyle,  "when  for  this  reason  or  for  that  we 

44 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


fail  to  do  justice!  No  beneficence,  benevo- 
lence, or  other  virtuous  contribution  will 
make  good  the  want.  And  in  what  rate  of 
terrible  geometrical  progression,  far  beyond 
our  pool  computation,  any  act  of  Injustice 
once  done  by  us  grows !  .  .  .  Justice,  justice, 
in  the  name  of  Heaven,  give  us  justice,  and 
we  live ;  give  us  only  counterfeits  of  it,  .  .  . 
and  we  die !" 

It  is  not  only  nonsense,  It  is  wrong,  to  tell 
me  that,  though  I  know  Mr.  LogroUer  to  be 
a  bad  man,  I  ought  to  vote  for  him  ^^to  keep 
the  other  side  out,"  or  "to  keep  from  wasting 
my  vote."  As  an  honest  citizen  and  a 
Christian  I  must  vote  for  the  individual  men 
who  will,  to  my  mind,  give  the  State  the 
cleanest  and  best  government;  and  I  must 
do  this  regardless  of  their  chances  of  elec- 
tion. 

"Oh,  blest  IS  he  who  can  divine 
Where  real  right  doth  lie, 
45 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


And  dares  to  take  the  side  that  seems 
Wrong  to  man's  bhndfold  eye  I 

"For  right  is  right,  since  God  is  God; 
And  right  the  day  must  win; 
To  doubt  would  be  disloyalty, 
To  falter  would  be  sin  I" 

Yours, 

The  Dominie. 


March  12. 
My  Dear  Friend: 

You  ask  about  tithe-giving.  I  can  only 
answer  that  I  wish  all  of  our  people  were 
at  least  tithe-givers.  The  tithe  was  the 
minimum  required  of  the  Israelite;  but  I 
am  convinced  that  practically  all  of  our  peo- 
ple could  and  should  give  to  God  more  than 
a  tithe  of  their  income.  The  law  of  Chris- 
tian giving  is  not  the  law  of  the  Old  Dis- 
pensation, requiring  an  arbitrary  tenth  for 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


God,  but  the  law  of  the  New  Dispensation, 
requiring  what  burning  heart  and  enlight- 
ened conscience  and  consecrated  will  shall 
feel  it  right  to  give. 

Christian  giving  is  always  systematic  and 
proportionate.  So  Paul  wrote:  "Upon 
the  first  day  of  the  week  let  each  one  of  you 
lay  by  him  in  store,  as  he  may  prosper." 
That  is  business-like;  and  the  best  type  of 
Christian  is  business-like  in  all  things.  I 
cannot  understand  the  lack  of  method  shown 
by  so  many  men  when  they  deal  with  the 
Lord  in  financial  matters.  They  are  slip- 
shod and  negligent,  as  they  would  be  with 
no  human  party  to  a  financial  arrangement. 
And  many  of  them,  if  they  give  systemati- 
cally, do  it  out  of  their  surplus — what  they 
can  spare  to  Godl 

But — give  a  tithe  as  a  minimum?  Isn't 
that  a  good  deal?  Well,  God  and  God's 
Kingdom  can  be  done  justice  to  only  in  one 
47 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


way.  God's  proper  proportion  of  a  man's 
income  must  be  at  least  enough  to  prove  a 
generous  recognition  both  of  God's  bounte- 
ous dealings  with  the  man  himself  and  of 
the  imperative  demands  of  the  work  of 
God's  Kingdom. 

Our  people,  for  all  their  small  incomes, 
are  well-to-do — they  can  all  give  God  a 
tithe;  some  can  give  Him  a  full  half;  but — 
they  are  not  ready,  because  they  think 
they  need  the  money  more  than  God  needs 
it. 

There's  the  rub,  and  there's  my  hint  at 
the  third  essential.  Christian  giving  must 
come,  in  the  nature  of  the  case,  from  a  con- 
secrated heart  that  desires  God's  glory  above 
all  things  else.  That  was  the  trouble  with 
the  rich  men  whose  gold  coins  Jesus  heard 
clattering  so  loudly  into  the  brazen  trumpets 
of  the  Temple  treasury.  Mind  you,  they 
were  systematic  and  proportionate  in  their 

48 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


giving;  and,  like  a  certain  other  Pharisee 
whom  Jesus  described,  they  presumably 
gave  more  than  the  minimum  tithe.  But 
they  gave  selfishly,  for  their  own  glory; 
while  the  poor  widow  gave  her  all  out  of  a 
spiritual  compulsion. 

I  recall  a  meeting  with  one  of  my  ushers 
after  church  one  Sunday.  He  was  smiling 
broadly,  and  he  told  me  why.  A  certain 
member,  a  woman  who  owned  eight  fine 
farms,  had  been  in  church  that  morning. 
He  had  noticed  the  gusto  with  which  she 
sang  the  hymn  before  the  offering, — 

**Were  the  whole  realm  of  nature  mine, 
That  were  a  present  far  too  small; 
Love  so  amazing,  so  divine, 
Demands  my  soul,  my  life,  my  all." 

And  then — ^'I  passed  the  plate  down  her 
aisle,  and  she  put  in  five  cents!" 

I  didn't  laugh  with  him.     I  can't  laugh 
49 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


over  it  even  now.  Why,  if  that  woman  had 
ever  caught  a  glimpse  of  what  Jesus  had 
done  for  her;  if  she  had  ever  had  a  suspicion 
of  the  "riches  of  the  glory  of  His  inheritance 
in  the  saints";  if  she  had  had  the  smallest 
conception  of  the  meaning  of  "life  eternal'' 
to  a  dying  world,  could  she  have  given 
to  God  thus?  Christians  through-and- 
through,  dead  in  earnest  as  Henry  Martyn, 
find  the  clasps  of  their  pocket-books  flying 
open  for  God;  for  they  have  consecrated 
those  pocket-books,  with  themselves,  to 
Him. 


Sincerely  as  always. 

The  Dominie, 


March  ig. 

My  Friend: 

A  certain  good  hausfrau  has  driven  me 
from  my  study.     I  write  with  difficulty,  pad 

50 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


resting  on  a  window-ledge.  I  cannot  find 
my  ink-bottle.  My  desk  is  piled  high  with 
books,  and  my  shelves  are  empty.  On  the 
study  floor  is  a  great  heap  of  papers,  maga- 
zines, boxes,  pencil-stubs,  and  what  not,  all 
of  which  articles  the  good  wife  has  doomed 
to  exile.  For  this  is  the  strenuous  but 
inevitable  season  of  Spring  houseclean- 
ing! 

How  things  do  accumulate  in  our  homes! 
When  all  the  closets  and  cupboards,  the 
nooks  and  corners,  are  emptied  of  their  ag- 
glomerated stores,  what  a  sight  is  there  I 
Clothes  worn  and  half-worn;  books  that 
failed  to  interest;  pictures  with  broken  glass 
or  disjointed  frames;  magazines  and  news- 
papers by  the  score;  a  broken  umbrella; 
some  cracked  plates — what  a  load  of  trash! 
Out  it  goes,  to  the  ashman's  wagon  or  (How 
generous  we  are  with  what  we  no  longer 
want!)  to  the  Salvation  Army:  anywhere,  so 

51 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


long  as  we  are  rid  of  it!  And  the  house  is 
so* clean  and  neat:  the  trash  is  gone! 

But  how  about  a  little  spiritual  house- 
cleaning?  Strange,  was  it  not,  that  the  last 
two  speakers  in  our  Men's  Club  Course  told 
us  the  same  hard  truth,  that  the  greatest  hin- 
drance and  menace  to  the  Church  of  to-day 
is  undoubtedly  the  worldliness  of  our  Chris- 
tian people. 

I  have  been  trying  to  look  through  the 
closets  and  cupboards  of  my  soul ;  I  suppose 
you  too  try  it  at  times.  It  is  good  disci- 
pline. How  startled  a  man  is  when  he  runs 
across  a  habit  he  thought  he  had  thrown 
away  years  before!  What  a  lot  of  trash  the 
human  mind  and  heart  can  accumulate, 
their  owner  all  unconscious  of  the  fact! 
But  I  can  not  think  it  strange  when  I  con- 
sider the  distinctively  worldly  nature  of  our 
daily  life,  and  the  amount  of  newspaper  and 
magazine  trash  we  absorb  as  mental  and 

52 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


spiritual  pabulum.  The  consequence  of 
^'stocking  up''  with  trash  is  a  superabun- 
dance of — trash,  of  course. 

Look  around  in  the  cupboards  and  shelves 
of  your  soul,  my  friend.  Anything  there 
that  takes  up  valuable  space  and  does  no 
good?  Any  trash  there?  Then  v^hy  not, 
by  God's  grace,  clean  house?  You  will  en- 
joy living  with  yourself  far  more;  and  you 
will  have  so  much  more  room  for  the  things 
worth  while. 

Your  friend, 

The  Dominie, 


March  26, 
Dear  old  Friend: 

I  was  greatly  chagrined  when  you  said — 
so  easily,  too — that  you  were  not  expecting 
to  attend  the  Annual  Meeting  of  the  church. 
You  are  one  of  the  consistent  givers,  and  you 

53 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


have  always  shown  a  certain  interest  in 
church  affairs;  and  your  remark  rather 
"flabbergasted"  me.  It  cannot  be  possible 
that  we  must  provide  a  sideshow  of  some 
sort  to  draw  such  men  as  you! 

I  know  what  so  many  of  our  people  are 
saying.     They  say  it  every  year : 

"What's  the  use?  Why  should  I  take  the 
trouble  to  go  to  the  Annual  Meeting?  It's 
all  cut  and  dried  anyhow.  The  nominees 
are  all  hand-picked.  And  annual  reports 
bore  me." 

There  is  something  wrong  with  the  per- 
son who  holds  such  an  attitude.  Some  peo- 
ple stay  away  because  they  are  afraid  their 
personal  abilities  are  not  going  to  be  recog- 
nized as  they  should  be.  I  should  be 
ashamed  to  think  that  any  one  in  this  church 
could  be  animated  by  such  feelings ;  for  per- 
sonal ambition  ought  never  to  cross  the 
church's  threshold.     And  some  stay  away 

54 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


because  they  think  '^the  machine"  is  running 
things.  But  there  is  no  ^^machine"  in  this 
church.  The  men  now  in  office  are  more 
likely  than  others  to  know  what  men  are 
suitable  and  ready  for  their  respective 
Boards ;  still,  any  one  entitled  to  vote  is  en- 
titled to  nominate  any  one  else  for  office. 
That  is  so,  I  think,  in  most  churches.  Yet 
you  do  not  refuse  to  vote  in  national  elec- 
tions because  you  did  not  personally  nom- 
inate the  candidates.  The  great  guaranty 
against  "church  politics"  is  the  participa- 
tion of  all  the  people  in  such  meetings  as  the 
one  now  approaching. 

Some  stay  away  because  they  have  other 
engagements,  or  are  too  tired,  or  do  not  care 
to  spend  an  evening  on  reports  and  the  like. 
I  sincerely  hope  that  you  are  not  in  this 
class  of  indifferents.  Annual  reports  as  to 
the  progress  of  your  church  ought  to  in- 
terest you  deeply.     If  they  do  not,  it  is  be- 

55 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


cause  you  have  forgotten  whose  the  church 
is  and  what  it  stands  for.  To  say  that  an 
Annual  Meeting  bores  you  is  to  admit  that 
you  do  not  care  whether  your  Saviour's 
Kingdom  is  advanced  in  your  community. 
I  hope  you  are  unwilling  to  make  such  an 
admission. 

Why  attend?  For  at  least  four  good 
reasons : 

1.  To  fulfill  your  honest  obligation. 
You,  a  member  of  this  church,  are  pledged 
to  such  support;  and  you  will  keep  your 
pledge.  If  only  an  attendant  and  contrib- 
utor, you  would  be  still  under  obligation, 
having  enjoyed  the  hospitality  of  the  church. 

2.  To  get  information.  The  annual  re- 
ports of  our  Boards  and  Societies  contain 
facts  which  ought  to  interest  any  one  inter- 
ested in  the  church. 

3.  To  render  service.  Your  attendance 
alone  adds  to  the  weight  of  the  meeting;  and 

56 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


your  advice,  your  protest  or  approval,  your 
vote,  all  have  weight.     You  are  needed, 

4.  To  cement  the  congregation  more 
closely  together,  and  to  prove  your  lively 
and  warm  interest  in  your  fellow-members. 

Take  a  red-hot  coal  out  of  the  grate  and 
put  it  alone  on  the  hearth,  and  it  will  soon 
grow  cold  and  dead.  For  your  sake  and 
the  church's  sake,  keep  in  touch,  that  you 
may  keep  on  fire.  Come  to  the  Annual 
Meeting,  and  come  prayerfully  and  seri- 
ously, prepared  not  to  criticise  but  to  help. 
You  are  needed. 

Cordially  yours. 

The  Dominie. 


April  2. 
Dear  Friend: 

Sometimes  I  wish  that  every  member  of 
our  church  could  have  a  turn  at  sitting 

57 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


through  a  service  in  the  pulpit.  The  man 
who  sits  there  sees  so  many,  many  things — 
little  things,  usually,  but  characteristic — 
that  those  in  the  pews  fail  to  observe. 
Small  mannerisms,  little  accidents  and  inci- 
dents, signs  of  interest,  of  indifference,  all 
are  so  easily  caught  by  the  dominie's  eye. 

You  will  wonder  what  I  am  leading  up 
to.  Well,  I  am  thinking  of  what  I  see  at 
every  Communion  Service.  A  certain  few 
(chiefly  men  who  claim  intellectual  superi- 
ority) stand  with  closed  lips  while  the  con- 
gregation repeats  the  Apostles'  Creed. 
They  rather  pity  the  credulous  who  blindly 
follow  outworn  dogma ;  rather  plume  them- 
selves on  their  own  emancipation! 

That  seems  to  me  a  vital  mistake. 

A  creed  is  a  definite  summary  of  what  one 
believes.  Just  as  a  man  lives  by  faith, 
guides  himself  by  convictions  and  axioms  on 
every  side  of  his  life,  by  the  same  token  he 

58 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


must  have  a  creed  for  every  side  of  it.  I 
have  my  creed  in  politics,  in  business,  in  so- 
cial life,  in  religion.  If  I  do  anything  in 
the  way  of  thinking  before  I  act,  I  am  sure 
to  have  such  creeds.  President  Emeritus 
Eliot  of  Harvard  defines  his  new  religion, 
explicitly  barring  creeds  and  dogmas;  but 
that  very  definition  is  a  creed,  of  which  that 
prohibition  is  a  part!  Thinking  men  must 
formulate  their  thought  and  must  summar- 
ize it. 

And,  beyond  the  fact  that  creed-making  is 
thus  spontaneous,  it  has  great  positive  value. 
My  creed  clarifies  my  faith  and  strengthens 
it  as  well ;  for  the  very  process  of  assembling 
my  beliefs  does  for  them  as  a  whole  what 
the  assembling  room  does  for  wheels,  rods, 
and  cylinders:  it  puts  them  in  working 
order. 

It  puts  me  where  I  belong,  too.  It  will 
put  me,  if  it  is  the  creed  of  a  Christian,  in 

59 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


the  Church,  among  those  who  agree  with 
me  on  all  essentials,  who  will  be  therefore 
the  most  congenial  and  helpful  company. 

And  it  stiffens  my  backbone,  enabling  me 
to  find  in  myself  a  greater  degree  of  moral 
courage  than  the  man  of  vague  ideas  and 
many  doubts  can  possess. 

And  then  it  helps  me  to  do  better  work  for 
Christ.  If  you  look  abroad  over  the 
Church  you  will  find  that  its  best  work  has 
throughout  the  centuries  been  done  by  men 
and  women  of  the  strongest  evangelical  con- 
victions. 

As  to  the  Apostles'  Creed,  it  is  the  sim- 
plest and  most  comprehensive  of  the  great 
creeds  the  Church  has  produced.  In  it  are 
to  be  found  most  of  the  fundamentals  of  the 
Christian  faith.  It  is  for  this  reason  more 
widely  used  to-day  than  at  any  time  in  the 
fifteen  centuries  since  its  birth.  We  use  it, 
not  for  any  magical  value  in  such  things,  not 

60 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


in  mere  slavish  repetition  of  our  fathers' 
words,  but  because  we  think  it  an  exception- 
ally accurate  statement  of  the  great  saving 
truths  of  Scripture.  The  one  statement 
over  which  we  stumble  concerns  Christ's 
"descent  into  hell."  We  need  not  stumble 
even  here,  for  the  word  "hell"  to  our  fore- 
fathers of  early  England  meant  the  whole 
realm  of  departed  spirits,  the  very  realm 
described  by  the  New  Testament  word 
"Hades." 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  nonsense  spoken 
to-day  about  doing  away  with  creeds.  It  is 
an  impossibility,  an  inconceivable  thing;  if 
it  could  be  done,  it  would  be  a  fatal  thing  to 
do.  God  give  us  men  and  women  who 
know  the  great  truths  which  are  in  the  Bi- 
ble; who  think  clearly  enough  on  religious 
matters  to  be  able  to  summarize  them;  who 
are  not  afraid  to  repeat  the  creed  of  their 
fathers  if  it  happens  to  be  their  own! 
6i 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


The  difficulty,  in  the  case  of  the  men  I 
have  spoken  of,  is  due  largely,  not  to  their 
unbelief  (I  happen  to  be  acquainted  with 
the  convictions  of  some  of  them),  but  to 
their  blind  adoption  of  the  slogan  of  the  age 
— "Down  with  dogma!"  Creeds  are  not 
the  fashion;  therefore  they,  following  the 
fashion,  are  above  creeds,  and  above  us  who 
can  still  repeat  them. 

It  is  a  fundamental  mistake.  Truth  will 
shape  itself  definitely;  cognate  truths  will 
flock  together  like  birds  of  a  feather;  and  it 
is  a  most  inspiring  and  helpful  event  when 
a  churchful  of  people  will  with  one  voice 
and  one  heart  repeat  a  summary  of  their 
great  Faith.  And  incidentally  it  is  the 
makers  and  adherents  of  the  creeds  who 
have  moved  the  world.  They  are  the  men 
of  purpose  and  of  inextinguishable  vigor. 
Heartily  yours, 

The  Dominie. 
62 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


April  g. 
My  dear  Man: 

I  have  just  had  a  delightful  experience. 
I  have  been  in  a  house  with  a  church  in  it. 
I  remember — in  Antwerp,  I  think  it  was — 
a  church  with  a  ring  of  houses  around  it; 
but  this  was  quite  different,  a  house  with  a 
church  in  it.  You  know  the  house.  It  is 
one  where  you,  too,  like  to  drop  in.  It  has 
^'atmosphere." 

When  Paul  sent  greetings  to  the  Church 
in  Rome  he  bade  the  elders  bear  his  saluta- 
tion to  Aquila  and  Priscilla  "and  the  church 
that  is  in  their  house."  That  church  was, 
of  course,  composed  of  the  Christians  of  the 
neighborhood,  who  were  wont  to  gather  in 
the  home  of  Aquila  and  his  good  wife.  But 
without  doubt  the  family  altar  of  that  godly 
couple  was  the  nucleus  and  center  of  the 
little  church.     And,  equally  without  doubt, 

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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


the  living  nuclei  of  the  church  in  this  vil- 
lage are  the  family  altars  of  her  members. 

The  warmth  and  liveliness  of  our 
churches,  the  genuineness  and  hearty  activ- 
ity of  local  Christianity,  depend  more  upon 
the  cherishing  of  a  true  religious  life  in  our 
homes  than  upon  any  one  other  thing.  A 
church  is  like  a  spring-fed  lake,  the  whole- 
someness  of  whose  waters  is  impaired  the 
moment  the  myriad  springs  along  its  shores 
lose  aught  of  their  purity  and  sweetness. 
There  is  a  great  and  immediate  need  for  a 
deeper,  better  religious  life  in  many  a 
church  member's  home  for  the  sake  of  that 
home  and  for  the  church's  sake. 

Of  all  the  ways  in  which  to  secure  such  a 
life  there  is  one  of  inestimable  value:  it  is 
the  observance  in  heart  as  well  as  in  words 
of  old-fashioned  ^^family  prayers."  If  I 
were  asked  to  name  the  one  thing  that  would 
most  quickly  put  new  life  into  this  partic- 

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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


ular  church,  I  should  say,  without  hesita- 
tion, ^'Family  worship." 

But  you  are  too  busy?  Not  too  busy,  cer- 
tainly, for  the  most  vital  business  of  life? 
There  is  nothing  so  beautiful,  so  beneficial, 
so  essential  to  the  life  of  those  in  your  home, 
as  the  right  development  of  their  spiritual 
nature;  and  that  depends  largely  on  what 
some  folks  sneer  at  as  a  ''form"  of  religion, 
on  ''family  prayers."  This  brings  the  mem- 
bers of  the  household  together  before  the 
throne  of  grace;  it  makes  them  intimate  in 
the  deepest  and  best  things  of  life;  it  forces 
them  to  face  the  great  problems  of  life,  and 
provides  them  with  a  God-given  solution 
for  them;  it  enlarges  their  sympathies  and 
kindness  not  only  toward  each  other,  but  to- 
ward others  outside  the  home;  it  destroys 
that  bugbear,  embarrassment,  which  assails 
so  many  Christians  when  religion  is  men- 
tioned; it  prepares  for  office  and  shop,  for 

65 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


school  and  playground,  for  day  and  night, 
for  joy  and  sorrow.  I  submit  to  you  that 
no  Christian  ought  to  be  too  busy  to  find 
time  for  so  valuable  a  thing  as  this. 

But  still  you  are  very  busy?  Yes;  but 
there  are  various  ways  of  solving  this  prob- 
lem of  "family  prayers." 

A  few  of  our  people  have  time  for  it  im- 
mediately before  or  after  breakfast;  and 
others  can  make  time  then,  by  retiring  and 
rising  ten  minutes  earlier.  Some  have  time 
in  the  evening,  when  all  the  family  can  be 
together;  but  the  old-fashioned  evening  of 
this  sort  is  out  of  fashion,  sad  to  say.  One 
or  two  of  our  families  have  the  Bible  at  the 
breakfast-table,  and  turn  the  breakfast 
"blessing"  into  brief  "prayers" ;  and  this  can 
easily  be  done  in  many  a  home.  And  others 
get  at  it  in  other  ways.  It  can  be  done,  and 
done  in  every  Christian  home,  not  in  a  mere 
rattle  of  empty  words   of   Scripture   and 

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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


prayer,  but  sensibly,  reverently,  helpfully, 
even  if  ever  so  briefly. 

But  it  is  quite  possible  that  you  do  not 
have  "prayers"  at  home,  not  because  you  are 
busy  but  because  you  are  afraid  1  or 
ashamed!  Is  that  it?  Then  I  entreat  you, 
in  the  name  of  all  that  is  best  in  life,  in  the 
name  of  your  Lord  Jesus,  to  get  you  a  new 
courage,  that  you  may  ''speak  a  guid  word 
for  Jesus"  in  your  own  home. 

How  pathetically  did  "puir  Robbie 
Burns"  carry  through  those  later  dreary 
years  the  memory  of  a  family  circle  he  had 
known : 

"The  cheerfu'  supper  done,  wi'  serious  face 
They,  round  the  ingle,  form  a  circle  wide ; 
The  sire  turns  o'er,  wi'  patriarchal  grace, 

The  big  ha'-Bible,  ance  his  father's  pride : 
His  bonnet  rev'rently  is  laid  aside. 

His  lyart  haffets  wearin'  thin  an'  bare; 
Those  strains  that  once  did  sweet  in  Zion 
glide, 

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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


He  wales  a  portion  with  judicious  care, 
And   'Let  us  worship  God!'   he   says,  with 
solemn  air." 

Oh,  man,  if  your  religion  is  worth  any- 
thing, it  is  worth  dealing  with  in  plain  and 
hearty  terms  at  your  own  fireside! 

Cordially, 

The  Dominie. 


April  Id. 
My  Friend: 

Like  you,  I  have  been  reading,  during 
these  days  before  Easter,  the  story  of  the 
Saviour's  last  week  before  his  death.  It 
makes  one  think  mighty  seriously.  What 
indomitable  purpose!  What  unequalled 
self-denial !    What  unqualified  love ! 

You  say  you  are  puzzled  by  that  strange 
and  terrible  cry  from  the  cross,  "My  God, 
My  God,  why  hast  Thou  forsaken  me?" 

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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


You  are  by  no  means  the  first  to  wonder  at 
it.  Indeed,  there  are  those  who,  unable  to 
fit  it  into  their  conception  of  the  salvation 
wrought  out  by  Jesus,  simply  cut  it  out  of 
their  Bibles.  To  my  mind,  however,  it  is 
the  key  to  the  whole  riddle  of  the  cross  and 
to  the  whole  earthly  mission  of  the  Saviour. 

You  tell  me  you  can  easily  conceive  of 
Jesus  as  forsaken  by  his  followers  when  He 
reaches  the — to  them — incomprehensible 
failure  of  crucifixion ;  but  you  cannot  think 
of  Him  as  forsaken  by  his  Father? 

Yet  right  there  is  the  unlocking  of  the 
whole  mystery.  This  agonized,  appalling 
cry  is  the  most  significant  of  the  Seven 
Words  on  the  Cross,  unless  one  except  the 
triumphal  "It  is  finished!" 

Clearly  he  is  in  dead  earnest.  There  are 
those  who  would  have  us  suppose  that  he 
was  playing  a  part.  Nothing  could  be 
farther  from  the  truth.     It  is  the  third  hour 

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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


of  the  day;  he  is  almost  in  articulo  mortis; 
and  men  do  not  pose  on  the  cross,  in  the  mo- 
ment of  death.  No.  Jesus^  cry  is  genuine, 
heart-deep ;  he  actually  feels  that  the  Father 
has  forsaken  him. 

But  this  is  the  very  opposite  of  what  we 
should  expect  of  Jesus.  Any  other  man 
might  feel  such  spiritual  darkness  closing 
thick  about  him  in  the  Valley  of  the 
Shadow;  but  Jesus,  the  Son  of  God,  why 
should  he  so  agonize?  All  his  days,  yea, 
through  all  eternity,  he  has  rejoiced  to  do 
his  Father's  will ;  and  on  his  head  once  and 
again  has  the  heavenly  benediction  fallen, 
"Thou  art  my  beloved  Son.  In  Thee  I  am 
well  pleased."  We  should  expect  him,  in 
this  awful  crisis,  to  be  above  our  weaknesses, 
to  be  conscious  every  moment  of  the 
Father's  presence  and  aid.  Yet  the  cry 
rings  out  from  the  cross,  "Why  hast  Thou 
forsaken  me?" 

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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


There  is  only  one  explanation:  The 
Father  has  actually  hidden  his  face  from 
him.  The  darkness  that  lies  over  Jerusa- 
lem is  as  nothing  to  this  terrible  blackness 
in  the  Saviour's  soul.  The  sneers  and  gibes 
of  the  priests,  the  desertion  of  the  fickle 
crowd,  the  physical  agony  of  death,  throb- 
bing nerves,  aching  muscles,  parched  throat, 
failing  heart — all  these  are  insignificant  in 
comparison  with  the  consciousness  that  the 
Father  has  withdrawn  his  comforting  and 
sustaining  presence. 

And  there  is  only  one  conceivable  reason 
why  that  presence  should  be  thus  with- 
drawn :  Jesus  is  the  representative  of  a  sin- 
ful world,  and  he  ^^bears  our  sins  in  his  own 
body  on  the  tree.''  It  is  guilt  alone  from 
which  the  Father  withdraws  himself. 
From  Jesus,  the  sin-bearer,  the  Father's  face 
is  turned  away.  For  one  dreadful  moment 
"He  that  sent"  Him  is  not  "with"  Him. 

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The  Savior  is  alone.  This  is  the  climax 
of  the  sacrifice,  the  bitterness  of  the  cup  He 
willed  to  drink. 

And  the  Christ  endures  even  this  for  us  I 
We  are  used  to  separation  from  God,  ter- 
ribly, shamefully  used  to  it;  it  seems  the  nor- 
mal thing;  but  to  Jesus  it  is  av^ful,  horrible. 
Yet  for  our  sakes  he  drinks  even  these  bit- 
terest dregs  of  his  cup. 

"Had  ever  love  such  proving? 
Was  ever  love  so  priced? 
Oh,    what   is   all   our   loving 
Compared  with  Thine,  O  Christ  I" 

It  is  this  that  makes  the  Saviour's  outcry  so 
poignantly  significant.  It  is  the  revelation 
of  the  full  weight  of  the  burden  of  our  guilt, 
the  measure  of  our  debt  to  Him,  our  Sacri- 
fice. 

Sincerely, 

The  Dominie, 


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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


Easter,  April  23. 
Dear  Friend: 

I  have  just  come  from  a  home  at  whose 
doors,  as  the  Arabs  say,  the  Black  Camel  has 
knelt;  and  I  have  witnessed  something  I 
have  seen  before  but  can  never  understand. 
Why  should  Christian  people,  when  one  of 
their  own  is  taken  Home,  grieve  as  if  Easter 
meant  nothing  to  them? 

One  of  the  puzzling  things  about  our 
present-day  Christianity  is  the  strange  ease 
with  which  some  people  accept  the  facts  of 
the  Faith  and  yet  refrain  from  applying 
those  facts.  Such  a  theoretical  or  nominal 
Christianity  is  a  common  spectacle;  and  it 
leaves  the  life  barren  and  cheerless. 

For  example,  there  is  the  fact  of  Jesus' 
resurrection.  It  is  the  best  authenticated 
fact  in  history.  It  is  accepted  as  a  fact  by 
Mr.  Nominal  and  Mrs.  Superficial.     ^^On 

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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


the  third  day  He  arose  again  from  the  dead. 
He  ascended  into  heaven,  and  sitteth  on  the 
right  hand  of  God  the  Father  Almighty." 
They  repeat  the  words,  they  acknowledge 
their  assurance  that  Jesus  rose; — and  then 
what? 

Then,  when  some  skeptic  casts  suspicion 
on  the  old  gospel,  they  begin  to  doubt, 
though  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  is  the  proof 
of  the  truth  of  his  Gospel,  as  He  said  it 
would  be:  *There  shall  no  sign  be  given 
but  the  sign  of  Jonah  the  prophet:  for  as 
Jonah  was  three  days  and  three  nights  in  the 
belly  of  the  whale,  so  shall  the  Son  of  Man 
be  three  days  and  three  nights  in  the  heart 
of  the  earth."  Thus  did  Jesus  risk  the  au- 
thenticity of  his  gospel  on  the  fact  of  his 
resurrection. 

And  these  people  seem  to  live  as  if  this 
present  existence  were  all  that  they  had  and 

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it  must  be  made  the  most  of.  "Let  us  eat, 
drink  and  be  merry,  for  to-morrow  we  die." 
They  throw  themselves  into  worldly  pleas- 
ures; they  fix  their  hearts  on  earthly  treas- 
ures ;  they  spend  themselves  on  transient  and 
ultimately  worthless  pursuits,  though  the 
resurrection  of  Jesus  ought  to  have  opened 
their  eyes  to  the  value  of  eternal  realities 
and  spiritual  ambitions.  His  rising  is  the 
seal  set  to  Jesus'  words :  "Lay  up  for  your- 
selves treasures  in  heaven.'' 

And  these  people,  nominal  believers  in 
Jesus'  resurrection,  behave  like  utter  unbe- 
lievers when  death  enters  their  family  circle. 
They  rebel  against  it,  complain  of  God, 
mourn  as  if  death  ended  all,  cover  them- 
selves over  with  garments  the  gloomiest  con- 
ceivable, "sorrow  as  the  rest,  who  have  no 
hope,"  though  "if  we  believe  that  Jesus  died 
and  rose  again,  even  so  them  also  that  are 

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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


fallen  asleep  in  Jesus  will  God  bring  with 
Him." 

For  this  is  the  one  overwhelming,  joy- 
ful thing  about  Easter:  that  the  resurrection 
of  Jesus  is  simply  a  historical  fact,  estab- 
lished, by  the  plainest  and  strongest  and 
most  plentiful  proofs,  just  as  every  other 
fact  of  history  is  established.  That  great 
expert  on  legal  evidence,  Blackstone,  de- 
clares that  no  other  fact  in  history  is  so 
well  authenticated.  There  is  every  reason 
why  you,  a  rational  being,  should  believe 
that  Jesus  rose;  for  the  fact  is  established 
by  the  usual  and  rational  processes  of  veri- 
fication. 

And  it  is  not  only  a  fact,  but  it  is  the  most 
powerful  fact  in  the  world.  It  verifies  the 
gospel  of  the  atonement;  it  certifies  the  pres- 
ent value  of  spiritual  things;  it  takes  from 
death  its  terrors,  establishing  the  reality  of 
heaven  and  the  certainty  of  immortality. 

76 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


What  is  needed  is  just  the  common  sense 
that  makes  men  act  upon  a  settled  truth. 
That,  I  take  it,  is  the  faith  that  counts. 
Some  Christians  lack  the  most  precious  gifts 
and  comforts  and  incentives  of  their  religion 
simply  because  they  do  not  apply  it  to  their 
own  daily  needs.  ^'But  now  is  Christ 
risen!"  That  ought  to  make  a  vast  differ- 
ence in  us. 

"There  is  no  death!     What  seems  so  is 
transition. 
This  life  of  mortal  breath 
Is  but  the  suburb  of  the  life  Elysian, 
Whose  portal  we  call  Death." 

Thus  being  certified  of  many  things,  we 
have  a  right,  even  in  our  deepest  bereave- 
ments, to  rejoice  on  Easter  Day. 

"Christ  the  Lord  is  risen  to-day! 
Sons  of  men,  and  angels,  say; 
Raise  your  joys  and  triumphs  high! 
Sing,  ye  heavens!  and,  earth,  reply!" 
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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


And  after?  Live  as  one  who  lives  for 
ever,  as  one  who  expects  soon  to  end  his  ap- 
prenticeship, to  meet  the  Master  face  to 
face,  to  serve  Him  eternally.  Do  you  be- 
lieve in  the  resurrection  of  the  dead?  Then 
live  your  convictions ! 

A  blessed  Easter  to  you  and  yours  I 

The  Dominie. 


April  JO. 
Good  Friend: 

It  warmed  my  heart  to  see  you  bring  your 
week-end  guests  to  church  last  Sunday 
morning. 

I  have  an  idea  that  the  Sunday  visitor  fur- 
nishes a  fine  test  of  the  depth  of  our  Chris- 
tian convictions  and  the  warmth  of  our  in- 
terest in  the  house  of  God.  Like  many 
other  incidentals  of  modern  life,  he  fur- 

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Letters  From  the  Dominie 

nishes  us  with  both  a  temptation  and  an  op- 
portunity. 

How  frequent  he  is  nowadays — and  his 
family  with  him!  We  must  not  forget  the 
family;  for  they  all  come  together.  Sud- 
denly they  appear.  They  seem  to  drop  out 
of  the  sky  as  if  by  a  Zeppelin.  They  fall 
into  the  Christian  home  as  a  sort  of  bomb- 
shell, upsetting  the  usual  and  proper  order 
of  things,  making  wreckage — I  speak  advis- 
edly— of  the  day.  The  host  and  his  family 
had  at  least  a  mild  expectation  of  going  to 
church.  If  the  visitors  arrive  in  the  morn- 
ing, that  expectation  ceases;  the  larder  is 
emptied;  the  good  wife  spends  the  morning 
in  the  kitchen  while  her  husband  looks  after 
the  guests;  a  table  groaning  with  good 
things  is  set  and  cleared;  an  hour  is  spent  at 
the  kitchen  sink;  the  rest  of  the  afternoon 
is  given  over  to  trivial  talk,  with  multi- 
tudinous cigars  for  the  men.     If  the  guests 

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arrive  in  the  afternoon,  the  same  sequence  of 
events  is  followed,  running  late  into  the 
evening.  Sunday  is  gone;  nothing  is 
gained ;  many  things  absolutely  necessary  to 
genuine  Christian  living  are  lost;  and  the 
thermometer  of  spirituality  in  that  house 
registers  a  considerable  drop,  which  drop  is 
more  than  likely  to  be  permanent.  Instead 
of  breathing  a  bit  of  the  air  of  heaven,  the 
members  of  this  family  have  breathed  all 
day  the  heavy,  dead  air  of  the  world;  and 
they  and  the  church  pay  the  penalty. 

It  is  our  only  chance  to  see  these  friends? 
I  doubt  it,  in  most  cases.  Saturday  is  a 
half-holiday  for  most  people.  And  even  if 
Sunday  were  our  only  chance,  it  would  still 
be  in  order  for  us  to  keep  first  things  first. 
Thus: 

Attend  to  our  Sunday  duties  and  privi- 
leges without  fail.  If  we  stand  pledged  to 
support  the  services  of  our  church,  or  to 

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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


teach  in  our  Sunday-school,  or  to  take  part 
in  our  Young  People's  Meeting,  then  such 
engagements,  to  the  honest  mind,  take  pre- 
cedence of  all  else. 

But  our  guests?  I  have  not  forgotten 
them.  It  is  our  place — and  our  privilege- 
to  tell  them  of  our  obligation,  and  to  invite 
them  to  come  with  us.  Hospitality  has  no 
rights  beyond  that.  The  guest  who  ex- 
pects us  to  break  sacred  engagements  and 
ignore  sacred  duties  just  for  the  sake  of  his 
company  is  guilty  of  a  flagrant  breach  of 
good  manners.  The  burden  is  on  his  shoul- 
ders, not  ours.  Let  our  Christian  people 
drop  that  apologetic  air  with  which  they 
have  been  wont  to  mention  their  church- 
membership  ;  let  them  put  first  things  first, 
and  take  an  honest  pride  in  fulfilling  their 
duty  to  their  church  and  their  Lord. 

That  is  why  the  cockles  of  my  heart  were 
warmed  when  I  saw  you  bring  your  guests 

8i 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


to  church.  I  felt  that  you  esteemed  the 
church  and  your  faith  at  their  proper  value. 
Your  guests  felt  it  as  well,  I  am  sure. 

Cordially, 

The  Dominie. 


May  7. 
My  dear  Man: 

You  and  I  are  old  enough  friends  to  per- 
mit of  my  speaking  plainly  about  some 
things. 

I  was  distressed  to  hear  you  say,  in  our 
discussion  last  night,  that  you  had  long  ago 
dropped  the  habit  of  private  prayer  and 
meditation. 

"Timothy  Kilbourn,"  in  a  recent  publica- 
tion speaks  of  men  who  have  lost  the  key  to 
the  closet  door.  I  thought  of  his  words 
when  you  spoke;  for  I  think  you  put  your- 
self in  their  class.     I  thought  afterwards  of 

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many  people  I  have  known,  and  I  said  to 
myself,  ^That  key,  to  the  place  where  men 
go  to  pray  alone  with  God,  is  one  of  the 
strongest  tests  of  a  man's  life  and  religion." 

And  I  think  still  that  I  was  right. 

Take  out  your  key-ring,  my  friend,  and 
look  it  over: 

There  is  the  key  to  your  front  door,  worn 
and  shiny.     You  use  it  daily. 

And  the  key  to  the  office  door  or  the  shop 
door?    Worn,  and  shining  bright. 

And  the  key  to  the  cash-box  in  the  safe? 
Just  like  the  others. 

There  is  the  thin  little  key  to  your  safe-de- 
posit box — rather  new,  scarcely  worn,  with 
little  dots  of  rust  on  it. 

There  is  the  key  to  the  tool-chest  that  used 
to  be  your  hobby  before  you  became  such  a 
busy  man — look  at  it  now,  a  rusty  brown. 

Your  key-ring  is  an  index  to  your  life. 

And  the  key  to  the  place  where  you  used 
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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


to  go  apart  to  be  with  God,  to  think  on  high 
and  holy  things  and  to  speak  with  your 
Father — take  a  look  at  it.  Its  condition,  my 
friend,  will  be  a  very  true  index  to  your  con- 
dition. How  does  it  look — rusty?  or  worn 
and  clean-shining? 

Not  there?  YouVe  lost  it?  You  really 
mean  that  you  have  in  your  day  no  moment 
when  you  are  alone  with  God?  Where  has 
that  key  gone?  Down  the  well  of  knowl- 
edge, so-called?  thrown  into  the  sea  of  plea- 
sure? forgotten  in  the  whirlpool  of  busi- 
ness? Where  is  it?  And  how,  how  do  you 
expect  to  go  on  living  without  it? 

What  does  it  do?  There  have  been  vol- 
umes— libraries! — written  about  the  accom- 
plishments of  prayer.  Whenever  the  crop 
reports  indicate  a  drought  in  the  wheat-belt 
the  newspapers  report  concerted  prayer  by 
the  farmers  for  rain;  and  then  they  proceed 
to  argue  editorially  as  to  the  benefits  of 

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prayer.  Often- times  the  argument  ends 
with  the  patronizing  encouragement  to 
Christians — and  others — to  go  on  praying, 
because  the  reflex  action  of  prayer  on  the 
mind  is  beneficial!  Pray,  not  because  you 
stand  a  chance  of  having  your  prayers  an- 
swered, but  because  by  praying  you  put 
yourself  in  a  calm  and  hopeful  frame  of 
mind  I 

What  a  noble  philosophy!  As  if  prayer 
were  a  new  sort  of  static  machine;  or,  say, 
a  new  kind  of  gymnastic  apparatus,  to  be 
used  to  build  up  the  muscles  or  bring  an 
end  to  brain-fag — and  no  more! 

That  prayer,  even  with  but  a  modicum  of 
faith,  does  calm  and  clarify  the  mind,  every 
one  knows.  So  does  solitude,  away  from 
the  city,  under  the  blue  sky.  But  is  that  all? 
What  mockery  is  this,  to  urge  me  to  pray 
for  my  own  sake,  though  my  prayer  can 
never  be  answered  by  the  machine!    As 

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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


well  urge  a  wrecked  sailor,  a  thousand  miles 
from  a  rescue,  to  swim  because  it  strengthens 
the  muscles  1 

Jesus'  philosophy  of  prayer  is  that  which 
is  summed  up  in  two  words  of  his :  "When 
ye  pray,  say,  ^Our  Father.'  "  We  do  not 
pray  to  the  machine:  we  pray  to  the  God 
above  and  controlling  the  machine.  We  do 
not  pray  just  for  mental  and  spiritual  exer- 
cise; we  pray  because  prayer  is  the  inter- 
course of  earthly  children  with  their  Heav- 
enly Father.  The  relationship,  according 
to  Jesus,  is  precisely  like  that  existing  be- 
tween us  and  our  children — only  that  God  is 
wiser,  kindlier,  more  just  than  any  earthly 
father.  Can  God  answer  prayer?  "If  ye, 
being  evil,  know  how  to  give  good  gifts  unto 
your  children,  how  much  more  shall  your 
Father  who  is  in  heaven  give  good  things  to 
them  that  ask  Him?" 

That  ends  it.  Fray,  my  friend,  not  for 
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the  reflex  action  of  prayer,  but  out  of  a  great 
need  and  a  greater  assurance.  God  hears. 
God  answers. 

And  God  expects  you  to  pray.  Oh, 
there's  the  trouble ;  we  do  not  fulfill  God's 
expectation.  The  normal  Christian  life  is 
a  life  of  constant  prayer,  of  daily  and  oft- 
repeated  communion  with  God.  That  is 
what  we  lack.  Pray  more  earnestly!  more 
expectantly!  more  frequently!  and  forget 
not — as  Jesus  forgot  not — your  church  and 
your  neighbor  in  your  prayers. 

Dear  friend,  if  that  key  is  gone — as  you 
say  it  is — you'd  better  get  it  back;  learn 
again  to  pray.  Shine  it  by  hard  usage.  If 
it  grows  bright  and  worn  I  know  what  your 
life  will  be,  a  life  of  contentment  and  peace, 
a  life  of  faith  and  hope,  the  best  sort  of 
life  ever  lived.  I  think — I  am  confident — 
that  some  of  the  crow's-feet  will  disappear 
from  your  face,  some  of  your  chronic  anxie- 
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ties   vanish   utterly,    if   you   will   try   this 
out. 

Sincerely,  as  always. 

The  Dominie, 


May  14, 
My  Friend: 

I  wonder  if  the  complexion  of  the  con- 
gregation this  last  week  or  two  has  brought 
to  your  mind  what  it  has  kept  jingling  in 
mine? 

"The  first  of  May 
Is  Moving  Day." 

At  this  season,  every  year,  the  Newcomers 
arrive.  All  through  the  land,  I  imagine, 
the  same  spring  shifting  of  population  oc- 
curs. Most  of  the  towns  and  villages  that 
are  not  suburban  have  been  developing  lit- 
tle manufacturing  industries;  and  to  and 

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from  city,  suburb,  and  industrial  town  come 
and  go  the  moving  households. 

What  a  complication  they  add  to  an  al- 
ready complicated  problem!  You  may  not 
have  felt  it  as  the  dominie  has;  but  to  me 
Mr.  Newcomer  and  his  family  (a  weighty 
sign  of  the  times!)  are  fresh  puzzles  every 
year. 

They  must  be  assimilated  into  the  life  of 
the  community.  The  community !  Are  we 
that?  We  are  to  a  large  degree  merely  a 
boarding-house  for  commuters ;  then  there  is 
still  the  element  descended  from  the  Fathers 
of  the  Town ;  next,  add  to  your  tally  some 
hundreds  of  colored  folk,  with  as  many  more 
Italians  and  other  foreigners.  Jumble  all 
together;  take  out  a  few  every  year;  put  in 
some  newcomers;  complicate  the  whole 
with  all  manner  of  tastes,  occupations,  faiths 
and  morals;  and  this — a  community!  Save 
the  mark! 

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Yet  that  is  what  it  once  was,  and  what 
it  will  be  again  at  no  distant  date,  please 
God;  but  it  is  hardly  a  community  just  now. 
A  community  is,  to  be  exact,  a  place  where 
people  have  common  interests  and  feel  a 
common  obligation ;  and  such  a  place  this  is 
not,  in  this  day.  Our  social  life,  our  civic 
affairs,  our  church  life,  do  not  yet  measure 
up  to  the  standard;  for  there  is  one  thing 
not  widely  enough  nor  earnestly  enough 
practised  by  us  all,  one  thing  that  is  an  es- 
sential in  a  "community." 

That  one  thing  is  neighborliness,  without 
which  no  aggregation  of  people  can  be 
called  a  community.  Archbishop  Trench 
said  it  was  "a  debt  which  we  must  be  con- 
tent to  be  ever  paying  and  have  never  paid." 
We  live  too  much  on  the  give-and-take 
basis ;  what  we  need  is  that  quality  of  kindly 
interest  in  those  about  us  which  asks  no  re- 
turn and  expects  none.     And  we  pick  and 

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choose  our  neighbors  too  much;  what  we 
need  is  an  unaffected,  simple  neighborliness 
that  serves  all  kinds  of  neighbors.  ^'Love  is 
like  the  sun,  which  does  not  ask  on  what  it 
shall  shine,  or  what  it  shall  warm,  but  shines 
and  warms  by  the  very  law  of  its  own  be- 
ing." 

And  the  people  who  ought  to  afford  the 
best  example  of  neighborliness  are  the  mem- 
bers of  our  churches.  Christ  gives  us  no 
option  as  to  our  neighbors.  He  does  not 
permit  us  to  choose  them.  Our  friends  are 
the  few  who,  perhaps,  are  congenial  with 
us;  but  our  neighbors  are  those,  regardless 
of  wealth  or  position  or  culture,  in  whose 
midst  God  has  set  us  down.  We  are  under 
obligation  to  know  them,  to  sympathize  with 
them,  to  serve  them.  It  will  not  hurt  you 
to  do  what  your  Lord  could  afford  to  do. 
If  you  do  it,  this  place  will  more  nearly  de- 
serve to  be  called  a  "community/' 

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The  corollary  is  this:  that  such  true 
neighborliness  must  show  itself  in  church  if 
anywhere.  The  constant  temptation  of  a 
congregation  is  to  regard  itself  as  a  ''happy 
family,"  complete,  self-sufficient.  I  used  to 
know  one  church  that  complacently  gave  it- 
self that  very  title.  It  almost  killed  the 
church.  No;  it  is  our  business  to  give  the 
Newcomer  family  the  best  the  church  has, — 
pews,  service,  interest,  neighborly  affection. 
It  is  not  enough  that  your  pastor  should 
spend  his  afternoons  calling  on  the  newly 
arrived  and  inviting  them  to  come  to  church. 
You  men  in  the  pews  must  come  to  the  point 
when  you  will  prove  the  value  of  the  Sav- 
iour to  men  by  the  wholeheartedness  of  your 
welcome  to  the  stranger  in  your  gates. 
Otherwise  the  Church  dies  1 

Yours  heartily, 

The  Dominie. 

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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


May  21, 
My  Friend: 

I  am  sorry  that  you  missed  Dr.  Blank's 
address  to  the  Men's  Club.  You  would 
have  appreciated  one  point  he  made.  He 
told  of  a  man  who  was  invited  out  to  a  fine 
dinner  at  a  friend's  house.  When  he  sat 
down  at  table,  and  the  delicious  viands  were 
set  before  him,  he  could  not  eat.  "What's 
the  matter?"  asked  the  host  sympathetically. 
"Oh,"  he  replied,  "I  saw  a  peanut-stand 
when  I  left  home,  and  I  bought  a  nickel's 
worth  and  nibbled  them.  Then  I  was 
thirsty,  and  I  stopped  at  the  drugstore  for  a 
soda.  Then  I  passed  a  candy  store,  and  I 
just  bought  a  little  to  eat  as  I  came  along. 
And  down  at  your  corner  yonder  I  passed 
a  fruit-stand,  and  I  couldn't  resist  the  temp- 
tation to  buy  a  couple  of  apples  and  eat 
them.  I'm  sorry,  but  my  appetite's  gone 
somehow!" 

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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


It  is  not  hard  to  find  the  reason  for  many 
a  person's  indifference  to  his  church.  He  is 
bored  by  sermons,  put  to  sleep  by  anthems, 
irritated  by  soul-stirring,  awakening  relig- 
ion. He  has  lost  his  appetite  for  these 
things.     He  sings  with  Cowper: 

"Where  is  the  blessedness  I  knew 

When  first  I  saw  the  Lord? 
Where  is  the  soul-refreshing  view 
Of  Jesus  and  his  Word?" 

Appetite  lost?  Of  course;  for  he  had  a 
jaded  palate  before  ever  the  church  bell 
rang.  He  makes  a  late  Saturday  night  of  it 
often.  I  have  a  faint  suspicion  that  his  wife 
is  responsible,  because  I  know  how  tired  he 
is  by  Saturday;  but,  that  aside,  he  turns  in 
at  midnight  or  later  on  Saturday,  and  he 
wakes  in  the  morning  ready  for  nothing  but 
a  Morris  chair  and  a  paper.  No  one  can 
have  an  appetite  for  wholesome   Sunday 

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food  who  feeds  thus  to  the  point  of  spiritual 
dyspepsia  of  a  Saturday  night.  A  Satur- 
day night  dance,  theatre,  card  party,  is  war- 
ranted to  make  his  soul  lose  the  zest  for  sub- 
stantial food.  The  big  Sunday  dinner,  the 
afternoon  spent  in  sleep,  cigars  and  supple- 
ments, or  in  motoring  or  calling,  the  over- 
whelming satiety  of  such  things,  is  often  the 
reason  why  he  yawns,  "I  don't  feel  like 
church  to-night." 

Don't  feel  like  it?  Who  could,  under 
such  a  course  of  treatment?  No  human  be- 
ing could  keep  his  appetite  for  genuinely  re- 
ligious things  after  nibbling  all  the  week 
and  eating  full  on  Saturday  of  cheap  mag- 
azines, sensational  stories,  plays,  cards,  din- 
ners, late  hours!  God  save  us  from  such  a 
life!  Let  us  be  sensible  and  moderate  in 
our  pleasures  and  cut  out  the  things  that  act 
on  the  soul's  finest  desires  like  peanuts  and 
candy  before  dinner. 

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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


I  heard  one  man  say  after  the  Men's  Club 
meeting  that  '^Christianity  and  church-go- 
ing are  not  synonymous." 

Not  synonymous?  Certainly  not;  but, 
nevertheless,  inseparably  connected. 

There  are  some  who  say  that  they  can  be 
"just  as  religious"  whether  they  come  to 
church  or  not.  (I  am  talking,  not  of  the 
^'shut-ins,"  but  of  those  who  are  able  to  at- 
tend and  do  not.) 

True  religion  has  always  been  church-go- 
ing religion.  It  has  always  found  a  genuine 
refreshment  and  a  deep  joy  in  meeting  with 
the  saints  in  the  sanctuary.  It  has  always 
sung  feelingly,  ^'I  was  glad  when  they  said 
unto  me,  Let  us  go  into  the  house  of  the 
Lord." 

On  the  other  hand,  neglect  of  the  serv- 
ices of  the  church  is  a  mark  of  spiritual 
decline.  I  have  my  reasons  for  so  think- 
ing: 

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First,  Jesus  was  a  persistent  and  habitual 
church-goer. 

Second,  Jesus  himself  established  for  the 
Christian  Church  that  concerted  worship 
which  had  always  been  at  the  heart  of  the 
Jewish  Church;  and  Jesus  promised  to  be 
present  wherever  the  saints,  if  only  two  or 
three,  should  meet  in  his  name. 

Third,  there  are  benefits  to  be  had  from 
church-going  which  can  be  had  in  no  other 
way.  (List  on  request,  if  you  cannot  think 
of  them  for  yourself!) 

Fourth,  the  same  holds  true  of  benefits  to 
be  rendered.  Neighbors  to  be  encouraged, 
strangers  to  be  served,  the  larger  interests  of 
the  Church  to  be  aided — surely  these  are  no 
small  privileges  enjoyed  by  Mr.  Church- 
goer. 

Fifth,  Mr.  Stay-at-home  and  his  family 
plainly  lack  in  genuine  spiritual  life  and  in- 
terest.    Their     Bibles     are     dust-covered; 

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their  prayers  are  perfunctory;  their  neigh- 
bors know  them  as  no  more  nor  less  than 
merely  worldly  people.  There  is  a  direct 
connection  between  all  this  and  their  ab- 
sence from  the  sanctuary. 

And  then  when  Mr.  S.  can  be  persuaded 
to  betray  his  real  reason  for  staying  away  it 
is  always  found  to  be  an  unchristian  reason. 
He  does  not  like  the  preaching  or  the  choir 
or  his  pew,  or  he  has  a  grudge  against  Mr. 
Church-goer,  or  he  has  other  interests.  Get 
to  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  and  usually  he 
neglects  his  church  because  of  worldliness, 
pure  and  simple. 

True  religion  goes  to  church  unless  the 
Lord  has  laid  it  by  the  heels.  It  goes  be- 
cause it  loves  to  go,  loves  to  meet  God's  peo- 
ple, loves  to  think  on  high  and  holy  things, 
loves  to  hear  the  gospel,  loves  to  praise  God 
from  whom  all  blessings  flow.  I  have  never 
known  a  truly  gracious.  Christian  character 

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but  what  its  owner  loved  the  house  of  God. 
Church-going  is  an  essential  part  of  true  re- 
ligion, always  has  been,  and  always  will  be. 

Faithfully  yours, 
The  Dominie. 


May  28. 
Dear  Friend: 

The  day  after  to-morrow  will  be  Memo- 
rial Day.  We  shall  keep  it  gladly,  out  of  a 
deep  affection  for  the  memory  of  those  who 
have  given  up  their  lives  in  the  wars  of  our 
nation. 

We  honor  them  not  only  because  they 
died  for  their  country,  but  because,  on  bat- 
tlefield, in  forced  march,  in  bivouac,  they 
lived  for  it  too. 

Living  is  the  common  test  of  patriotism. 
It  is  only  in  emergencies  that  men  must 
fight.     The  average  citizen  is  called  on  to 
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prove  his  patriotism  by  the  tests  of  living  in 
times  of  peace.  This  is  what  Lincoln  had 
in  mind  at  Gettysburg:  "It  is  for  us,  the 
living,  to  be  dedicated  here  to  the  unfin- 
ished work  which  they  who  fought  here 
have  thus  far  so  nobly  advanced." 

There  are  campaigns  being  fought  out  in 
our  day  stirring  enough  to  rouse  the  heroic 
in  the  breast  of  any  true  patriot. 

There  is  the  battle  for  simplicity  of  life 
in  the  face  of  appalling  snobbery  and  ex- 
travagance. A  Joan  of  Arc  is  made  of  no 
more  heroic  stuff  than  the  woman  who  dares 
to-day  to  ignore  the  fashions.  No  petty 
campaign,  this,  but  one  that  calls  for  a  vast 
army  armed  with  sanity  and  contentment. 

There  is  the  battle  for  commercial  pro- 
bity. Where  there  is  so  much  smoke  there 
must  be  some  fire;  and  where  we  have  so 
much  legislation  restricting  the  methods  of 
business,  so  many  investigations,  so  many 

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scandals,  it  seems  probable  that  modern 
business  methods  are  not  altogether  what 
they  should  be.  The  Wall  Street  Journal 
declares,  "It  takes  greater  and  finer  heroism 
to  dare  to  be  poor  in  America  than  to  charge 
an  earthwork." 

There  is,  too,  the  conflict  for  social  purity. 
There  is  no  country  in  the  world  so  dis- 
graced by  its  divorce  laws  as  ours.  Here  is 
room  for  righteous  struggle,  not  merely  for 
better  laws,  but  for  a  social  standard  that 
will  dare  to  use  the  deadly  weapon  of  ostra- 
cism. And  in  the  same  field  is  being  fought 
the  battle  over  the  "single  standard"  of 
morality.  Here  is  opportunity  for  a  heroic 
stand  on  the  part  of  both  men  and  women 
who  believe  that  purity  is  the  same  for  both 
sexes.  And  here  again  the  keen  weapon  is 
ostracism. 

The  conflict  over  the  saloon  calls  for  sol- 
dierly virtues.     Lincoln  called  this  the  next 

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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


great  campaign  after  the  abolition  of  slav- 
ery. No  evil  in  our  land  is  so  colossal,  so 
iniquitous,  so  fatal  to  all  good  interests,  as 
this.  And  the  soul  that  would  fight  against 
it  must  be  of  heroic  mould. 

And  there  is  the  campaign  for  the  observ- 
ance of  law.  Here  is  a  field  for  heroes  I 
Rich  and  poor,  ignorant  and  cultured,  are 
alike  to  be  dealt  with.  Inertia,  callousness, 
self-indulgence,  cynicism,  political  corrup- 
tion, party  politics,  all  are  to  be  met  and 
vanquished. 

God  be  thanked,  there  are  many,  many 
true  patriots  in  the  land,  spending  them- 
selves like  heroes  in  such  conflicts! 

And  God  be  thanked,  there  is  beginning 
to  make  itself  felt  abroad  over  the  land  a 
revival  of  genuine  old-time  Christian  piety, 
which  is,  in  the  last  analysis,  the  one  essen- 
tial ingredient  in  the  making  of  a  patriot. 
Reverence  for  law,  love  of  neighbor,  hatred 

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of  evil,  indignation  at  injustice,  moral  cour- 
age, self-forgetfulness — these  are  Christlike 
qualities.     God  give  us  more. 

*Tor   truth   and   right,    and   only   right   and 
truth — 
Right,  truth,  on  the  absolute  scale  of  God — 
No  pettiness  of  man^s  admeasurement; 
In  such  case  only,  and  for  such  one  cause, 
Fight  your  hearts  out!'* 

Cordially, 

The  Dominie, 


June  4- 

My  Friend: 

Have  you  ever  wondered  w^hat  were  the 
feelings  in  the  breast  of  the  dominie  as  he 
v^atched  the  people  file  out  after  the  Com- 
munion Service  ?  So  many  thoughts  crov^d- 
ing  in  upon  him!  What  does  this  renewal 
of  vows,  this  closest  of  associations,  mean  to 
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these  dear  folk?  how  deeply  do  they  feel? 
to  what  heaven  are  they  exalted?  Out  they 
go,  murmuring  greetings  to  one  another, 
smiling,  chatting;  what  do  they  take  with 
them? 

What  will  you  take  with  you?  That  is  to 
say,  what  that  you  did  not  bring  with  you 
when  you  came? 

You  ought  certainly  to  know  your  Sav- 
iour better  and  love  Him  more.  For  this 
is  the  very  picture  of  the  lengths  to  which 
his  love  to  you  led  Him.  ^'Greater  love 
hath  no  man  than  this,  that  a  man  lay  down 
his  life  for  his  friends." 

"Thine  am  I  by  all  ties, 

But  chiefly  thine 
^That,  through  thy  sacrifice, 
Thou,  Lord,  art  mine." 

And  you  ought  to  hate  all  sin  more  in- 
tensely.    For  at  the  very  heart  of  this  Sup- 
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per  there  lies  the  fact  that  our  dear  Lord 
died  because  of  our  sins.  ^'Him  that  knew 
no  sin  God  made  to  be  sin  for  us,  that  we 
might  become  the  righteousness  of  God  in 
Him."  Gladly  He  gave  himself  to  death 
for  our  sake,  "bearing  our  sins  in  his  own 
body  on  the  tree."  Surely  you  cannot  think 
of  this  without  feeling  keenly  that  that 
which  needed  so  great  expiation  must  be  a 
monstrous  and  hateful  thing  to  God,  with- 
out being  willing  to  sing  with  old  Isaac 
Watts : 

"Oh,  how  I  hate  these  lusts  of  mine 

That  crucified  my  Lord; 
These  sins  that  pierced  and  nailed  HIS  flesh 

Fast  to  the  cruel  wood! 
Yes,  my  Redeemer,  they  shall  die  1" 

And  you  ought  to  love  your  fellows  in  the 
church  more  than  ever.     He  who  comes 
hither  in  the  right  spirit  is  sure  to  find  him- 
105 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


self,  as  he  leaves,  with  a  greater  warmth  in 
his  heart  towards  those  with  whom  he  has 
just  feasted.  He  will  surely  be  less  critical 
of  their  faults,  more  considerate  of  their 
opinions,  more  genuinely  sympathetic.  He 
will  not  forget  the  '^shut-ins";  nor  will  he 
omit  from  his  prayers  henceforth  those 
whom  he  has  just  welcomed  into  this  goodly 
fellowship,  and  those  others  who  are  having 
a  hard  fight  of  it  to  keep  the  faith. 

*'BIest  be  the  tie  that  binds, 
Our  hearts  in  Christian  love.'* 

And  surely  you  will  henceforth  do  more 
for  Christ.  "Ye  are  not  your  own;  for  ye 
were  bought  with  a  price;  glorify  God 
therefore" — how?  By  self-interest?  by  ab- 
sorption in  "bread-and-butter-business?"  by 
just  enjoying  life?  Nay,  by  ranging  your- 
self at  Paul's  side,  gladly  wearing  the  name 
"doulos" — "bond-slave"  of  Jesus  Christ, 
1 06 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


and  out  of  grateful  love  attending  to  the 
Master's  business. 

Heartily  yours, 
The  Dominie, 


June  II, 
Old  Friend: 

Sometimes  I  am  tempted  to  feel  that  in 
giving  us  our  Sunday  God  has  come  near 
casting  His  pearls  before  swine  I 

It  was  early  in  the  seventeenth  century 
that  Henry  Vaughan  wrote  his  quaint  praise 
of  Sunday: 

*'The    pulleys    unto    headlong    man;    time's 
bower; 
The  narrow  way; 
Transplanted  paradise ;  God's  walking  houre ; 

The  cool  o'  th'  day! 
A  taste  of  heav'n  on  earth ;  the  pledge  and  cue 
Of   a   full   feast!   and  the   out-courts   of 
glory." 

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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


It  may  be  exaggerated  in  some  of  its  odd 
figures  of  speech,  but  it  expresses  a  whole- 
souled  delight  in  Sunday  as  a  day  set  apart 
for  the  best  thing  in  life,  namely,  fellowship 
with  God ;  and  so  I  dare  to  quote  it  in  the 
twentieth  century.  The  man  who  wrote  it 
had  something  that  many  of  us  sorely  need. 

What  do  you  put  first  on  Sunday? 

Some  people  put  their  stomachs  first  in 
importance.  Sunday  happens  to  be  almost 
the  only  day  on  which  many  busy  men  and 
women  can  visit  friends  and  kinsfolk;  and 
the  good  wife  whose  house  is  to  be  thus  hon- 
ored puts  on  her  apron  and  stays  at  home 
from  church  to  superintend  arrangements; 
and  at  some  time  after  noon  the  family  and 
their  guests  sit  down  to  gourmandize.  It 
takes  an  hour  or  two  to  eat  the  American 
Sunday  Dinner  (capitals  are  justified!)  and 
another  two  or  three  hours  for  men-folk  to 
sleep  and  walk  it  off — while  women-folk 
io8 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


work  it  of5f  a-cleaning  up  the  dishes !  What 
a  glorious  blessing  such  a  Sunday  must  be! 
But  what  about  God? 

Some  people  put  the  newspaper  first. 
Johnny  runs  down  to  the  store  for  it  while 
father  dresses.  Father  begins  on  it  before 
breakfast,  and  applies  himself  diligently  to 
it  for  the  small  remainder  of  the  morning 
and  through  the  waking  fraction  of  the 
heavy-lidded  afternoon.  Mother  takes  a 
look  at  the  women's  section  and  the  society 
news,  after  the  roast  is  in  the  oven  and  again 
after  the  dinner  dishes  are  washed.  Johnny 
and  his  small  sister  spend  the  greater  part  of 
the  day  over  the  fascinating  crudities  and 
uglinesses,  the  funny  rudenesses  and  vulgar- 
ities, of  the  colored  supplement.  Alto- 
gether a  blessedly  intellectual  day!  But 
what  about  God? 

Some  people  put  "the  play  of  arms  and 
legs"  first.  Premising,  with  unctuous  logic, 
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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


that  ^'the  Sabbath  was  made  for  man,"  and 
that  "it  is  their  only  chance  for  exercise," 
they  spend  a  glorious  day  outdoors,  and  they 
go  to  sleep  Sunday  night  with  the  fine  tingle 
of  physical  weariness  in  their  limbs.  I  con- 
fess it  sounds  pleasant  and  helpful;  but — 
what  about  God?  Are  these  people  cattle 
— and  nothing  more? 

"What  is  he  but  a  brute 
Whose  flesh  has  soul  to  suit, 
Whose  spirit  works  lest  arms  and  legs  want 
play? 
To  man  propose  this  test: 
Thy  body  at  its  best, 
How  far  can  that  project  thy  soul  on  its  lone 
way?" 

And  then  I  cannot  help  but  doubt  that  sec- 
ond premise  of  theirs;  for  I  have  observed 
that  the  heartiest  devotees  of  the  Sunday- 
for-exercise  theory  are  the  people  who  can 
most  easily  get  Saturday  afternoon  ofif.  But 
no 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


even  if  they  can't  get  it — where  does  God 
come  in? 

One  might  quibble  over  details  of  Sun- 
day-keeping forever.  It  is  to  be  settled  by 
the  individual  conscience;  and  the  indi- 
vidual conscience  has  for  guide  the  Word  of 
God  plus  common-sense.  Sunday  is  a  day 
set  apart  for  the  best  interests  of  man;  and 
those  best  interests  cannot  be  served  if  God 
be  left  out,  or  left  least.  We  ought  to  count 
that  Sunday  lost  which  fails  to  prove  itself 
in  very  truth  ^^a  gleam  of  glory  after  six 
days'  showers."  He  who  slights  his  Sab- 
bath opportunity  for  cultivating  his  soul's 
acquaintance  with  God  is  very  certain  to 
make  of  God  a  stranger  during  the  six  days 
that  follow. 


Sincerely  as  always, 

The  Dominie, 


III 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


June  l8. 
My  dear  Man: 

It  does  me  good  to  see  you  sing  in  church  I 
Your  voice  is  lost  in  the  volume  of  song 
(Thank  God,  our  people  sing!)^  but  "ac- 
tions speak  louder  than  words."  I  wish 
they  all  enjoyed  it  as  you  do.  The  Chris- 
tian who  does  not  love  the  hymns  of  the 
Church  is  an  anomaly. 

There  are  no  songs  like  these!  And  no- 
where is  the  purifying,  beautifying,  enno- 
bling influence  of  Christianity  more  clearly 
seen  than  in  its  effect  upon  the  music  of  the 
civilized  world  and  its  development  of  so 
rich  a  treasure  as  we  have  in  our  hymn- 
books.  There  are  no  songs  like  the  songs  of 
Zion.  The  history  of  our  hymns  is  the  his- 
tory of  the  sorrows  and  joys,  the  persecu- 
tions and  conquests,  the  fears  and  hopes,  of 
the  typical  Christian  and  the  whole  Church. 

112 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


Jesus  himself  began  that  history  when,  as 
Mark  tells,  before  He  led  his  disciples  to 
Gethsemane,  He  gathered  them  about  Him 
and  they  sang  a  hymn ;  and  the  Church  has 
been  singing  hymns  ever  since,  singing  in 
prisons,  in  the  galleys,  in  the  catacombs,  in 
the  torture-chambers,  in  hermits'  cells  and 
vast  cathedrals,  singing  her  triumphant  way 
down  the  centuries. 

And  the  best  part  of  sacred  music  and 
song,  the  most  valuable  part  of  it  all,  is 
the  congregational  hymn-singing.  We  all 
love  to  hear  beautiful  voices  in  the  choir- 
loft.  Such  music,  sung  and  heard  in  a  de- 
vout spirit,  is  a  fine  element  of  worship. 
Milton  felt  its  power: 

"There  let  the  pealing  organ  blow 
To  the  full-voiced  quire  below, 
In  service  high,  and  anthems  clear, 
As  may  with  sweetness  through  mine  ear 

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Dissolve  me  into  ecstacies, 

And  bring  all  heaven  before  mine  eyes." 

But  still  there  is  no  melody  the  Church 
can  raise  that  compares  v^ith  the  reverent, 
thoughtful,  hearty  singing  by  the  whole  con- 
gregation of  one  of  the  great  hymns,  ''The 
Church's  One  Foundation"  or  ''Rock  of 
Ages"  or  "Love  Divine"  or  "Come,  Thou 
Fount."  I  doubt  if  all  our  other  Church 
music  put  together  sounds  as  svs^eet  in  God's 
ears  as  this. 

I  think  of  preaching  soon  upon  the  duty 
of  "making  a  joyful  noise  unto  the  Lord." 
There  is  food  enough  for  a  sermon  in  the 
words ;  and  it  will  not  be  hard  to  fit  it  to  our 
congregation!  We  do  sing  heartily;  but 
there  is  so  much  to  be  gained  by  directing 
our  singing  "unto  the  Lord"  rather  than 
unto  other  folks'  ears !  And  there  are  some 
who  seem  to  feel  that  because  they  lack  mu- 
sical talent  they  are  therefore  to  remain 
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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


silent.  I  see  them  every  Sunday,  ashamed 
or  afraid  to  sing!  Ah,  but  if  they  would 
only  make  a  '^joyful  noise"  and  make  it  for 
God's  hearing,  it  would  do  them  and  all  of 
us  so  much  good  I  What  can  God  care  if  a 
man  sing  off  the  key?  If  it  make  no  mel- 
ody to  human  ears,  I  am  sure  that,  just  as 
the  many  incongruous  noises  of  the  city  be- 
come harmonious  to  the  ears  of  the  man  far 
above  in  one  of  our  modern  towers,  so  his 
song  will  prove  tuneful  in  the  ear  of  God. 

So  I  shall  preach  both  to  the  man  who 
can  only  make  a  noise  and  to  the  man  who 
can  sing.  Here  is  a  part  of  our  worship  in 
which  we  can  all  closely  unite.  Let  us  all 
do  our  very  best  to  enable  the  church  to  wor- 
ship God  fitly  and  nobly  through  our  con- 
gregational singing. 

This  means  reverence,  thoughtfulness, 
heartiness,  self-forgetfulness  on  your  part. 
Let  us  make  the  hymns  we  sing  during  these 
115 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


coming  months  a  full  expression  of  our  faith 
and  hope.  Do  you  love  Christ?  Is  your 
hope  in  Christ?  Then  sing  out!  Do  not 
be  afraid  of  showing  your  feelings.  He 
who  loves  our  Lord  ought  to  wear  his  heart 
on  his  sleeve  in  church.  When  a  hymn  is 
announced,  sing!  Think,  and  worship,  and 
pour  your  heart  out  before  God !  A  singing 
church  is  always  a  healthy  church,  and  cer- 
tainly it  must  be  a  church  the  dear  Lord 
loves. 

I  do  not  know  of  one  of  the  truly  success- 
ful churches  of  our  day  where  the  singing 
of  the  people  is  not  an  essential  factor  in 
that  success.  Take  Paul's  advice:  *Tet 
the  word  of  Christ  dwell  in  you  richly;  in 
all  wisdom  teaching  and  admonishing  one 
another  with  psalms  and  hymns  and  spirit- 
ual songs,  singing  with  grace  in  your  hearts 
unto  God."  Cordially  yours, 

The  Dominie. 
ii6 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


June  2S' 

Dear  Friend: 

Last  Thursday  I  had  to  deal  with  a  young 
soul  that  had  been  mortally  hurt— through 
no  fault  of  its  own.  The  girl  is  in  a  safe 
place  now,  quiet,  guarded ;  but  it  is  years  too 
latel  She  had  been  permitted  to  grow  up 
on  the  streets ;  and  we— the  community— we 
had  left  certain  dangerous  things  lying 
around  the  streets,  God  forgive  us !  Yester- 
day a  youngster  down  town  picked  up  a 
stick  of  dynamite  in  the  gutter.  We  might 
better  have  left  dynamite  lying  around  than 
have  left  the  things  that  so  grievously  hurt 
my  frail  girl  of  Thursday! 

There  is  an  old  woman  in  Glasgow  whom 
we  should  copy  in  larger  matters.  She  is 
bent  with  years  and  rheumatism.  A  police- 
man noticed  her  peculiar  actions  one  day, 
and  kept  his  eye  on  her.  She  was  hobbling 
117 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


about,  stooping  often  to  pick  up  something 
which  she  hid  in  her  apron.  The  officer 
grew  suspicious,  walked  over  to  her,  and 
asked  gruffly  what  she  had  in  her  apron. 
In  it  were  bits  of  broken  glass — nothing 
else.  "I  thought  Fd  take  them  out  o'  the 
way  o'  the  bairnies'  feet,"  she  said.  And  the 
officer  walked  off,  shamefaced. 

It  seems  sometimes,  to  one  who  sees  some- 
thing of  the  life  of  the  children  of  the  town, 
that  something  more  might  be  done  here  to 
take  the  hurtful  things  out  o'  the  way  o'  the 
bairnies'  feet,  and  out  o'  the  way  o'  the  feet 
of  the  almost-grown-up  bairns,  too. 

There  is  the  cigarette  habit,  for  instance. 
I  have  never  known  a  time  when  so  many 
of  the  younger  boys  were  smoking  cigarettes 
as  now.  I  cannot  say  just  where  they  are 
bought,  but  I  am  sure  they  are  bought  right 
here  in  our  stores.  Evidence  is  not  lacking 
as  to  the  injury  done  by  the  "coffin  nail" ;  the 
ii8 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


boy's  school  record  and  his  record  in  gen- 
eral morality  are  vitally  affected.  Here  is 
a  point  at  which  not  spasmodic  but  constant 
vigilance  on  the  part  of  school  authorities, 
police,  and  parents  is  needed. 

There  are  the  Sunday  shops,  too.  It  may 
not  be  amiss  to  recall  the  words  of  Justice 
McLean,  of  the  United  States  Supreme 
Court:  "Where  there  is  no  Christian  Sab- 
bath there  is  no  Christian  morality;  and 
without  this  free  institutions  cannot  be  long 
sustained."  In  certain  nearby  communities 
of  the  same  character  as  ours  the  soda- 
fountain,  the  cigar  stand,  and  the  candy 
counter  are  closed  on  Sunday.  Here  we 
choose  to  remain  indifferent  to  a  situation 
that  cannot  fail  of  moral  injury  to  all  con- 
cerned. 

So,  too,  one  might  point  out  the  need  of 
taking  the  saloons  out  of  the  way  o'  the 
bairnies'  feet.    What  of  the  children  in  this 
1 19 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


town  whose  homes  are  made  unworthy  the 
name  of  home  by  our  saloons ;  whose  lives 
are  stunted  and  blasted  from  the  start  by  our 
saloons;  whose  right  to  the  care  and  protec- 
tion of  their  parents  is  nullified  by  our  sa- 
loons? And  what  of  the  young  men  who 
are,  before  our  very  eyes,  now  stepping  up 
to  fill  the  places  of  the  down-and-out  and 
the  dead  at  the  bars  of  our  saloons?  These 
things  need  not  be;  but  they  will  be  until 
we  clear  the  way  for  the  bairns. 

This  is  your  problem  as  well  as  mine. 
Your  children  are  growing  up  here.  Their 
feet  will  be  cut  by  the  broken  glass,  their 
souls  hurt,  perhaps  mortally,  by  sharper 
evils.  Oh,  I  wish  you  men  of  the  church 
could  see  what  I  see!  I^d  like  to  see  you 
shrink  and  whiten  at  the  spectacle  of  hurt 
and  death  wrought  by  the  accepted  evils  of 
our  town !  No  one  can  clean  the  streets  but 
1 20 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


you!     In  the  name   of   God,    clear  these 
things  out  of  the  way  o'  the  bairnies'  feet! 

Yours, 

The  Dominie, 


July  2, 
My  dear  Friend: 

A  propos  of  the  Fourth,  I  have  just  read 
an  amusing  story. 

During  the  Franco-Prussian  war  there 
lived  in  Paris  a  certain  eccentric  nobleman, 
Count  Bertrand  by  name.  His  greatest  pe- 
culiarity was  his  habit  of  annually  leaving 
home,  going  to  some  quiet  hotel,  and  there 
taking  to  his  bed  for  three  full  months.  He 
received  no  callers,  and  saw  not  a  soul  but 
his  servant,  who  brought  him  one  meal  a 
day,  and  served  that  meal  in  absolute  silence. 

Bertrand    was    thus    hibernating   when 

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Paris  was  besieged.  He  might  never  have 
known  of  the  fierce  struggle,  the  hardships 
and  suffering  within  the  city,  if  the  bread 
served  with  his  meal  had  not,  one  day,  been 
so  bad  that  he  could  not  eat  it.  He  flew  into 
a  rage  and  demanded  the  reason  for  such 
poor  service.  Whereupon  his  man,  break- 
ing his  long  silence,  told  him  of  the  siege 
and  the  consequent  famine. 

The  count  was  stunned.  He  rose, 
dressed,  and  wandered  about  the  hotel,  be- 
wildered, muttering  over  and  over,  ^'Paris 
is  besieged!  What  ought  a  Bertrand  to 
do?"  Suddenly  a  happy  answer  struck 
him :  ^ Why,  he  ought  to  go  to  bed ; — and 
I  will  go  to  bed !" 

And  go  to  bed  he  did,  and  there  he  stayed 
until  the  siege  was  ended. 

The  moral?  Decidedly  there's  a  moral. 
I  called  this  an  amusing  story,  but  it  has 
another  side,  far  from  amusing. 

122 


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The  man  who  is  interested  in  public  af- 
fairs and  national  dangers  only  when  his 
own  convenience  is  affected  is  a  very  small 
calibre  patriot.  He  still  exists,  this  Ber- 
trand ;  but  we  could  do  better  without  him. 
He  is  a  parasite,  eating  the  bread  of  the  na- 
tion, while  he  declines  to  shoulder  shovel  or 
rifle  when  the  country  needs  either.  Amer- 
ica wants  men  and  women  who  think  beyond 
their  own  bread  and  butter,  men  and  women 
whose  own  patriotic  souls  will  not  let  them, 
once  roused,  go  back  to  sleep  in  the  hour  of 
peed.  In  a  nation  growing  as  ours  is  grow- 
ing, ever  entering  on  new  and  untried 
phases,  ever  facing  fresh  emergencies,  every 
hour  is  such  an  hour,  calling  for  patriots 
whose  hearts  are  big — bigger  than  their 
stomachs ! 

Save  us  from  the  man  whose  indignation 
is  born  merely  of  a  sense  of  personal  injury 
and  is  so  ephemeral  at  best  that  he  can,  with 
123 


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Bertrand,  sleep  through  the  boom  of  the 
siege-guns ! 

You  who  know  the  soul  of  the  commuter 
will  agree  with  me;  but  there  is  as  much 
flimsy,  time-serving,  calculating,  selfish 
pseudo-patriotism  in  other  classes  as  in  that 
with  which  you  journey  daily  on  the  train. 
The  country  needs — and  never  more  than  in 
this  crucial  year — the  patriotism  that  is 
stung  deep  by  national  peril  regardless  of 
whether  personal  interests  be  affected  or  not. 
Pray  with  me,  on  the  Fourth,  for  more  such 
true  lovers  of  country. 

Yours  cordially, 

The  Dominie, 


July  9. 
Dear  Friend: 

Short  or  long,  what  a  blessing  a  good  va- 
cation   is!    William    Motherwell,    fleeing 
124 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


from  his  desk  in  a  murky  Scottish  city, 
wrote  with  delight  about  his  holiday: 

"Up,  up,  my  heart!  and  walk  abroad; 

Fling  carking  care  aside; 
Seek  silent  hills,  or  rest  yourself 

Where  peaceful  waters  glide. 
Good  Lord,  it  is  a  gracious  boon 

For  thought-crazed  wight  like  me 
To  smell  again  these  summer  flowers 

Beneath  this  summer  tree." 

But  there  are  conditions  essential  to  mak- 
ing a  vacation  a  thorough  success,  from 
which  we  return  better  in  body,  mind  and 
soul. 

We  ought  to  go  for  the  right  purpose, 
which  is  not  excitement;  that  is  the  last 
thing  most  people  need  when  the  summer 
comes.  They  have  had  enough  excitement 
to  last  a  while,  rush  and  hurry  and  sordid- 
ness  and  struggling.  Their  supreme  need  is 
peace  and  quiet,  release  from  strain,  chance 
125 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


for  the  soul  to  stretch  itself,  so  to  speak. 
What  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  crowd  his 
holiday  full  of  excitement  and  come  back 
unrested  in  spirit? 

We  ought  to  go  to  the  right  place.  Jesus 
set  a  good  example  when  he  asked  his  disci- 
ples to  come  apart  to  a  "desert  place  and 
rest  a  while."  "Desert"  means  simply 
"empty  of  humanity."  He  wished  to  get 
them  away  from  the  crowd,  from  the 
world's  business,  to  a  place  apart.  Most 
people  go  where  the  crowd  goes;  and  they 
make  a  great  mistake.  Undoubtedly  they 
can  rest  their  bodies  at  a  great  resort;  but — 
their  souls ?  I  have  my  doubts.  The  mind, 
the  soul,  want  big  spaces,  silences,  beauties 
of  nature. 

"The  world  is  too  much  with  us ;  late  and  soon, 
Getting    and    spending,    we    lay   waste    our 
powers : 

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Little  we  see  in  nature  that  is  ours; 
We  have  given  our  hearts  away,  a  sordid 
boon!" 

We  ought  to  go  in  the  right  company. 
Vacation  is  made  largely  by  the  people  in 
v^hose  company  it  is  spent.  We  crave  com- 
pany of  some  sort,  and  we  are  sure  to  have  it. 
But  of  what  sort?  The  ways  of  summer 
folk  are  easy-going.  Acquaintances  are 
easily  struck  up.  People  decent  enough  at 
home  allow  themselves  strange  license  on  a 
holiday.  But  one  day  in  bad  company  may 
spoil  a  life;  certainly,  a  day  in  bad  company 
will  make  a  definite  and  lasting  impress  on 
character. 

We  ought  to  take  certain  baggage  along. 
The  home  church,  for  example.  Some  peo- 
ple forget  it.  Take  it  along,  in  your 
thoughts  planning  your  share  of  its  work  in 
the  fall,  and  in  your  prayers  asking  God's 
benediction  on  it,  and  in  your  holiday  spend- 
127 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


ings  setting  aside  the  Lord's  share.  Our 
Bibles,  too,  ought  to  go  with  us:  not  at  the 
bottom  of  the  trunk,  to  be  left  untouched, 
but  where  the  Baedeker  goes,  in  pocket  or 
handbag.  It  is  the  soul's  guide-book,  and 
there  is  never  a  better  chance  to  use  it,  nor 
a  greater  need  for  it,  than  on  vacation. 
And  our  own  selves  ought  to  go,  too.  It  is 
very  easy  to  play  Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde 
in  this  matter  of  vacations.  But  a  Christian 
has  no  option.  He  must  be  himself  always, 
or  else  prove  that  his  religion  is  only  a 
cloak;  he  must  hold  to  his  convictions  about 
the  Sabbath,  about  church-going,  about 
clean  conversation,  about  neighborliness, 
about  personal  habits — hold  to  his  convic- 
tions always!  What  troubles  conscience  at 
home  ought  to  stir  it  abroad!  And  this  is 
hard,  because  the  restraints  of  home  are 
lacking.  Don't  put  your  Christianity  in  the 
cedar-chest;  take  it  along! 
128 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


A  happy,  healthy  summer  to  you   and 
yours. 

As  always, 

The  Dominie, 


July  l6. 
My  Friend: 

You  write  about  the  "modern  Athenians'* 
as  you  have  met  them  on  your  vacation. 
That  is  a  happy  phrase.  They  are  legion. 
They  are,  as  you  say,  outdoing  those  of  an- 
cient days  in  their  passion  for  novelty.  You 
and  I  live  in  the  midst  of  them!  and  we  can- 
not help  but  observe  this  present-day  mad- 
ness. 

When  I  was  a  small  boy  the  fashions,  if  I 
mistake  not,  changed  once  a  year.  (My 
mother  used  to  make  over  her  gowns  for  the 
second  and  even  the  third  year!)  When  I 
was  in  college  they  had  doubled  that  rate. 
129 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


To-day,  they  change  quarterly,  and  the 
tailor  and  the  modiste  appear  to  be  grieved 
that  there  are  but  four  seasons  a  year!  The 
craze  for  novelty  in  dress  is  one  of  the  most 
conspicuous — and  futile — characteristics  of 
our  time. 

Go  to  the  theater,  and  you  will  find  the 
same  desire  in  evidence.  There  must  be  an 
eternal  succession  of  new  effects,  startling 
developments,  novelties.  The  most  striking 
illustration  of  this  lies  in  the  fact  that  the 
very  same  people  are  found  in  eager  attend- 
ance on  both  the  most  flagrantly  immoral 
plays  and  those  plays  that  are  advertised  for 
their  religious  qualities.  They  are  there  at 
both  plays  just  because  they  are,  in  their 
bored  sort  of  eagerness,  searching  for  some- 
thing new  in  the  way  of  a  sensation. 

Go  to  an  "up-to-date"  restaurant,  or  coun- 
try club,  or  private  entertainment,  and  you 
will  find  people,  even  the  younger  of  the 

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young  people,  dancing  with  steps  and  atti- 
tudes that  have  an  unmentionable  origin  and 
unsavory  history.  They  w^ant  novelty;  that 
is  why  they  step  over  the  bounds  of  refine- 
ment. 

The  news-stand  is  a  good  indicator  of 
public  manners  and  tastes.  The  man  at  the 
railroad  stand  in  Hoboken  tells  me  what 
magazines  are  selling  best — "a  mile  ahead 
of  the  rest."  What  ones?  Two  magazines 
grown  notorious  in  the  past  short  year  or 
two  for  the  nastiness  of  their  stories,  stories 
which  mark  the  moral  degradation  of  some 
of  our  cleverest  authors.  Why  do  they  sell? 
Because  the  dear  public  wants  a  new  sensa- 
tion every  day. 

And  you  and  I  are  a  part  of  this  public. 
We  dare  not  forget  that.  It  seems,  in  its 
madness,  to  have  hitched  its  wagon,  not  to 
a  star,  as  Emerson  urged,  but  to  a  frenzied, 
orbitless  meteorite.  It  is  our  business  not 
131 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


to  go  with  the  crowd,  but  to  hold  fast  to  sim- 
plicity, morality  and  common-sense,  know- 
ing that  novelty  is  not  a  synonym  for  worth. 
Just  now  the  function  of  Christian  people 
seems  to  be  to  act  as  the  brake  to  society,  a 
big  task,  and  bigger  in  summer,  I  think, 
than  at  any  other  time. 

Sincerely, 

The  Dominie. 


July  2 J. 
Dear  Friend: 

Did  your  good  wife  tell  you  what  a  cer- 
tain small  boy  in  our  neighborhood  said  in 
his  prayer  the  other  night?  ^'Good-by, 
God!     I'm  going  to  the  mountains  to-mor- 


row." 


So  many  grown  folk  might  have  said  it! 
They  go  off  on  a  vacation  and  leave  God  be- 
132 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


hind  without  even  the  formality  of  a 
good-by.  The  church  is  left,  with  a  sigh  of 
relief  at  the  thought  that  there  is  no  obliga- 
tion to  attend  service  for  weeks  or  months 
to  come.  The  Sunday-school  is  left,  under 
the  assumption  that  the  children  will  be 
"just  as  well  off  without  any  lessons  for  the 
summer."  The  Bible  is  forgotten,  left  in 
the  house  behind  closed  shutters  and  locked 
doors.  The  family  altar — well,  the  family 
altar  tumbled  down  years  ago.  The  weekly 
envelope  for  the  support  of  the  church  and 
its  work — it  too  is  left  behind. 

What's  the  matter?  Why,  all  this  is  but 
symptomatic  of  a  grave  condition — namely, 
that  these  good  people  propose  to  go  away 
and  leave  God  himself  behind.  They  will 
be  found  breaking  Sunday  as  they  never 
would  at  home ;  visiting  places  they  would 
not  go  near  at  home ;  cultivating  habits  that 
they  would  not  dare  indulge  in  at  home. 
133 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


And  throughout  a  whole  vacation  God  is 
surely  forgotten  1 

The  only  wrong  in  all  this  is  that  there  is 
no  true  Christianity  in  it.  Religion  that 
can  be  packed  away  in  moth-balls  is  not 
Christ's  religion.  Consistency  is  absolutely 
essential,  since  the  true  Christian  recognizes 
God's  presence  and  his  own  responsibility 
on  his  vacation  just  as  fully  and  gladly  as 
at  home. 

Up  here  in  the  mountains  one  may  see 
both  kinds  of  religion  to  advantage.  In  a 
neighboring  camp  there  is  a  man  whose  life 
has  made  a  deep  impression  on  me.  His 
religion  is  one  that,  to  any  observer's  eyes, 
has  not  changed  character  in  the  least  by  be- 
ing transplanted  many  miles  from  home  or 
by  being  set  down  among  strange  people. 
People  who  possess  this  peculiar  sort  of  re- 
ligion evidently  act  in  their  vacation  sur- 
roundings on  the  very  same  principles  that 
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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


guide  them  at  home.  Some  men,  when  they 
put  on  a  flannel  outing  shirt  and  an  old  felt 
hat,  undergo  a  corresponding  change  of 
character  and  conduct;  but  these  people  are 
the  same,  in  speech  and  deed,  as  at  home. 
Some  forget  the  obligations  of  neighborli- 
ness  in  a  summer  colony;  but  these  people 
are  constantly  quietly  proving  as  good  neigh- 
bors up  in  the  hills  as  down  in  New  Jersey 
or  Brooklyn.  Their  religion  is  thorough- 
going; it  comprehends  all  their  daily  life, 
wherever  they  happen  to  be. 

That  is  the  only  sort  of  Christianity  that 
is  genuine.  It  is  the  only  sort  that  men  who 
are  not  Christians  will  give  weight  to.  It  is 
the  only  sort  the  Church  of  Christ  ought  to 
contain  or  to  cultivate. 

If  we  are  looking  for  a  standard  to  set  for 

this  year's  work  in  this  church,  we  can  find 

none  better  than  this— that  in  every  line  of 

the  church's  activities  we  try  to  produce  in 

135 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


men  and  women  and  children  just  such  a 
religion.  The  Sunday-school,  the  Men's 
Club,  the  Young  People's  Society,  the 
preacher — all  ought  to  have  in  mind  the 
standard  set  by  Christ  Jesus,  to  develop 
Christians  who  shall  be  themselves,  prac- 
tise their  principles  with  a  Christlike  kindli- 
ness, abroad  as  well  as  at  home.  Christians 
with  creed  plus  practice.  Christians  on  va- 
cation and  at  work.  Christians  always,  in  all 
circumstances,  because  Christians  in  heart. 
Our  vacation  goes  well.  All  happy,  lazy 
and  getting  fat!  The  trout  are  taking  the 
fly  nicely, — but  the  biggest  one  continues, 
after  time-honored  fashion,  to  get  off  again ! 
My  fingers  have  not  yet  begun  to  itch  for 
work,  but  if  they  follow  the  precedent  of 
former  summers  they  will  soon. 

Yours, 

The  Dominie, 

136 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


July  ja 
Dear  Old  Friend: 

Not  much  chance  to  write  letters  up  here, 
but  there  is  plenty  of  opportunity  for  doing 
one^s  thinking.  What  a  hurry-skurry  life 
we  lead  at  home!  At  least  it  seems  so  from 
these  mountain  heights.  How  ^^the  ever- 
lasting hills"  do  humble  a  man;  and  how 
this  clean,  crisp  air  does  drive  the  cobwebs 
from  one's  mind!  I  wish  all  of  us  could 
run  away  to  a  glorious  height  like  this  every 
little  while,  just  to  be  made  sane  again! 

We  went  over  into  Maine  yesterday  for 
a  fine  day's  trip.  Eighteen  miles  in  a  ram- 
shackle motor-boat  on  a  weird  man-made 
lake  with  whole  forests  thrusting  dead 
branches  up  through  the  waters ;  then  a  two- 
mile  trail  through  the  spruce;  and  then  the 
river,  white  "swift  water"  here,  a  long 
swirling,  black  pool  below.  What  a  river! 
•137 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


and  what  trout!  My  poor  little  flies  were 
not  half  big  enough.  The  guides  used  sal- 
mon flies! 

Which  (the  guides,  not  the  flies)  bring  me 
to  my  tale.  It  is  of  a  guide  and  his 
philosophy  that  I  write. 

He  is  short  and  wiry,  brown  as  an  Indian 
save  for  white  mustache  and  grizzly  eye- 
brows i  quiet  as  an  Indian,  too,  with  clear 
blue  eyes  that  note  everything.  They 
say  he  knows  every  inch  of  the  North 
Woods. 

He  had  me  in  charge.  All  the  way  up 
the  lake  and  for  half  a  mile  on  the  trail  to 
the  river  he  said  never  a  word.  Then  he 
spoke : 

"I  guess  I'd  better  let  one  o'  these  boys 
lead  the  way  here.  These  trails  are  all  new 
to  me." 

I  looked  at  him  in  some  surprise. 

"I  hain't  guided  up  this  valley,"  he  ex- 
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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


plained,  "for  ten  years;  and  the  dam's  hid 
all  the  old  trails." 

He  looked  up  through  the  scanty  timber 
towards  the  distant  mountains,  then  turned 
and  smiled  at  me. 

"But  they  can't  fool  me,"  he  said  simply, 
"as  long  as  them  mountains  stands  there.  I 
can  always  find  my  way  by  them,  if  every 
trail's  gone!" 

Man,  what  a  fine  speech  was  that!  I 
thought  of  all  the  novel  changes  in  thought, 
of  new  theological  and  philosophical  sys- 
tems and  theories,  of  the  bewildering  maze 
of  new  trails  offered  us  modern  travellers, 
with  the  old  trails  (so  they  tell  us)  wiped 
off  the  map,  obliterated.  But  God  be 
thanked,  the  mountains  still  stand!  Above 
forest  and  stream,  high  o'ertopping  swamp 
and  "slashing,"  there,  immovable,  unchang- 
ing, rise  the  great  fundamental  truths  of 
revelation!  No  matter  how  confusing  the 
139 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


trails,  we  can  still  follow  my  old  guide  and 
"lift  up  our  eyes  to  the  hills!"  Let  the  lit- 
tle theories  and  novelties  go!  Eyes  aloft, 
to  the  great  truths !  To  guide  ourselves  by 
them,  unconcerned  as  the  old  guide  over  the 
petty  things  that  perplex  others — this  is  the 
way  to  live!     Don't  you  agree? 

Yours, 
The  Dominie, 


August  6, 
Dear  Old  Friend: 

Still  here  in  the  high  hills,  and  fishing  and 
tramping  more  zealously  every  day.  I  wish 
you  were  near  enough  to  permit  of  my  send- 
ing you  the  mate  to  the  ^'square-tail"  trout 
I  ate  for  breakfast  to-day.  Better  still 
(while  I  am  wishing),  I  wish  you  had  been 
here  to  catch  him.     He  came  out  of  a  deep, 

140 


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cool  lake  three  miles  up  in  the  mountains, 
just  through  the  notch  which  I  can  see  on 
the  northern  horizon  as  I  write. 

We  ended  the  week's  fishing  up  there  yes- 
terday. John,  the  old  guide  I  wrote  about 
last  week,  had  me  in  tow  again.  We  came 
down  from  the  lake  in  the  twilight,  after 
the  early  evening  fishing.  On  the  way  he 
volunteered  another  bit  of  his  homely 
philosophy.  Passing  a  big  spruce,  I  saw  an 
axe  driven  into  its  side,  and  no  sign  of  an 
owner  in  the  neighborhood.  John  nodded. 
He  had  seen  it  on  the  way  up  in  the  early 
morning. 

"That  must  belong  to  the  surveyors  down 
below,"  he  said.  "They'll  be  back  for  it 
some  time." 

There  hung  the  axe  in  the  tree,  and  might 

have  hung  there  for  a  month,  and  not  a  man 

would  touch  it  save  the  owner.     Here  was 

the  sim£le  honesty  of  Eden,  truly.    When  I 

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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


said  something  about  it  the  old  fellow  shook 
his  head  sadly. 

"Used  to  be  that  way  all  through  the 
woods,"  he  said,  "but  'taint  so  no  longer. 
Over  at  the  - —  Lakes,  now,  ye  can't  leave 
a  thing  around  without  it'll  be  taken. 
They're  gettin'  too  civilized." 

I  have  thought  of  his  words  a  hundred 
times  since.  Civilization,  in  the  general 
meaning  of  the  phrase,  has  not  always  car- 
ried blessing  with  it.  Theft  and  falsehood 
have  gone  with  the  city  sportsman  and  his 
money  to  the  mountains.  Rum  and  its  un- 
mentionable companions  have  gone  with 
"Western  progress"  to  Africa  and  the  Ori- 
ent. And  here  at  home?  Here  too  we  pay 
a  high  price  in  some  ways  for  our  civiliza- 
tion. A  few  days  ago  I  came  up  out  of  the 
Subway,  for  whose  speed  I  had  paid  by 
breathing  its  foul  air  and  being  deafened  by 
its  din.     I  looked  across  City  Hall  Park  and 

142 


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saw  that  wonderfully  beautiful  Woolworth 
Tower— "frozen  music"— piercing  the  blue 
with  its  golden  tip ;  but  the  side  street  down 
which  I  walked  later  had  been  metamor- 
phosed into  a  sunless  abyss  by  the  skyscraper 
of  civilization;  and  I  remembered  that 
gracious  homes  had  once  stood  there,  with 
gardens  sloping  to  the  river  .  .  .  And  then 
I  thought  of  the  war,  with  all  the  agencies 
of  ''civilization"  at  work  to  help  prosecute 

it  ...   ! 

We  call  it  the  march  of  progress.  And 
we  have  progressed.  The  world  is  better, 
doubtless,  than  ever  before.  But— has  this 
colossal  machinery  of  modern  life  really 
helped  in  the  progress?  We  are  too  easily 
impressed  by  the  externals  of  our  civiliza- 
tion. Judging  by  the  one  gauge,  the  mak- 
ing of  men,  it  sometimes  seems  as  if  we  were 
not  getting  full  value.  There  are  greater 
things  than  power,  efficiency,  impressive- 
143 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


ness.     Civilization  must  be  made  to  produce 
them  or  it  fails. 

We  shall  be  back  soon,  to  get  into  harness 
again,  and,  I  hope,  pull  better  than  before. 
Good  health  and  a  good  time  to  you  all! 

Heartily  yours. 

The  Dominie, 

August  /J. 
My  Dear  Friend: 

Last  Sunday  morning  at  church-time  we 
strolled  down  to  the  one  little  church,  a  mile 
or  so  below  the  camp,  to  find  two  women 
waiting,  with  three  small  youngsters,  in 
doubt  as  to  whether  there  would  be  church 
that  morning  or  not.  The  arrival  of  the 
sexton  (store-keeper,  over  the  way)  settled 
the  matter  in  the  negative.  The  young 
theologue  who  supplied  the  several  churches 
along  the  valley  during  the  summer  months 
was  sick.     The  sexton  was  sizing  us  up 

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while  he  talked.  I  imagine  that  the  aver- 
age fisherman  up  here  is  not  distinguished 
for  his  church-going  habit;  for  the  man 
turned  to  me  and  asked  abruptly,  "Either 
of  you  a  minister?"  I  confessed.  He  had 
some  initiative,  it  appeared,  for  he  informed 
me  at  once  that  he  would  let  folks  know  that 
I  was  going  to  preach  in  the  evening. 

It  was  a  delightful  service — to  me,  at  any 
rate.  I  wonder  if  you  can  appreciate  the 
inspiriting  consciousness  I  had  that  I  was 
dealing  with  people  who  came  to  church 
from  more  than  mere  force  of  habit  or 
fashion?  I  did  enjoy  it,  wheezy  organ, 
nasal  voices,  smell  of  smoky  lamps — all  of 
it.  And  after  it  was  over  one  old  fellow 
came  up  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  patted  me  on 
the  shoulder,  and  said  earnestly,  "Well,  El- 
der, that'll  carry  us  a  long  way.  Thank  ye. 
Thank  ye." 

I  do  love  to  be  told  just  that — that  my 
145 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


preaching  will  carry  people  just  a  wee  bit 
further  and  more  safely  on  the  road.  I 
have  the  natural  man's  liking  for  praise — 
I'll  never  fully  subdue  that  while  I'm  in  the 
flesh,  I  suppose — but  that's  not  it.  More 
than  I  like  to  be  told  that  I've  done  well  I 
love  to  be  assured  that  I  have  helped  some 
one. 

And  I  hate  the  cynical  attitude  of  so  many 
of  our  sophisticated  people  at  home.  They 
assume  that  the  preacher  is  out  to  make  his 
reputation  by  his  preaching.  I  hate  that. 
I  want  a  reputation — I  say  it  to  you  frankly; 
I  want  it;  but  I  want  it  just  because  it  will 
give  me  more  ears  for  my  Message.  (I 
know  you  believe  me  when  I  write  this.) 
And  I  want,  much  more,  to  have  proof  that 
I  have  faithfully  transmitted  that  Message. 
I  tell  you,  it  felt  good  to  have  that  old  back- 
woodsman pat  me  on  the  back!  I  wish  I 
had  more  of  it  at  home. 
146 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


I  wonder— has  it  ever  occurred  to  you 
that  praise  may  be  wholesome?  Not  flat- 
tery, but  praise,  or  better,  thanks?  I  think 
I  could  preach  better  and  harder,  and  win 
more  men  for  my  Saviour,  if  you  at  home 
were  to  "pat  me  on  the  back"  a  little  of  tener. 

This  is  a  confidence  with  a  vengeance  I 
but  I  shall  let  it  go,  with  all  good  wishes. 

Yours  faithfully. 

The  Dominie. 


August  20. 

Dear  Friend: 

No  more  of  the  hills  in  my  letters,  for 
we  are  down  on  the  coast,  with  a  salt  breeze 
in  our  nostrils  and  a  flat  horizon  of  sea  be- 
fore us.  This  huge  caravansary  is  some- 
what of  a  contrast  to  the  camp  up  near  the 
skies.  Such  a  crowd  of  people,  so  busy 
about  their  pleasures !  An  orchestra  is  play- 
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ing  out  on  the  veranda — not  quite  the  same 
as  the  voice  of  ''the  murmuring  pines  and 
the  hemlocks"  (most  of  v^hich  were  really 
spruces  in  our  forest  primeval). 

Much  of  the  life  here  seems  so  futile,  so 
enervating,  rather  than  invigorating.  I  sup- 
pose my  impression  is  largely  due,  however, 
to  the  greatness  of  the  contrast  with  life 
in  the  hills.  There  are  fine,  heroic  deeds 
done  here,  as  I  have  just  discovered. 

It  happened  a  day  or  so  ago.  A  certain 
woman  (you  know  her)  was  dining  with 
friends  in  one  of  the  cottages  near  the  hotel. 
The  witty  hostess  laughingly  retailed  a  story 
of  undoubted  humor  but  of  just  as  undoubted 
shadiness.  The  little  company  gathered 
about  the  table  laughed,  at  first  uncertainly, 
then,  gaining  courage  from  each  other, 
heartily.  The  woman  I  speak  of  laughed 
with  them,  but  not  in  the  least  heartily.  The 
story  was  followed  by  another  and  another ; 
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a  polite  little  Decameron  was  being  related. 
But  this  woman  laughed  no  more.  When 
she  said  good-night  it  was  with  never  a 
single  word  as  to  an  enjoyable  evening,  but 
with  chin  held  high  and  a  decided  coolness 
in  her  tone. 

And  when  she  spoke  of  it  afterwards  it 
was  with  burning  indignation.  She  had 
made  up  her  mind,  she  declared,  that  she 
had  no  desire  to  have  her  children  ever  come 
to  think  that  their  mother  could  enjoy  a 
dirty  story! 

God  be  thanked  for  such  women,  women 
who  have  a  love  for  clean  speech  and  clean 
pleasures ;  women  who  dread  the  defilement 
of  their  children's  minds  by  anything  un- 
clean; women  who  put  their  moral  princi- 
ples above  the  demands  of  empty  politeness. 

Too  many  of  us  are  willing  to  laugh  with 
the  crowd.  Too  many  of  us  regard  social 
conventions  as  more  important  than  the 
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truth.  We  need  more  women — and  more 
men — who  will  not  endure  what  is  unclean 
or  in  any  way  unworthy.  Indeed,  I  think  it 
is  harder  for  us  men  than  for  the  women  to 
adhere  to  the  clean  standard.  Women  the 
world  has  always  expected  to  be  decent;  but 
men,  for  ages  past,  have  been  given  more 
"latitude."  In  the  dominie's  presence  most 
men  are  clean-mouthed ;  but  I  know  as  well 
as  you  do  what  happens  "when  the  cloth  is 
gone,"  and  this  even  with  men  who  are 
Christians.  Oh,  for  more  who  will  be  fired 
with  indignation  when  vileness  is  aired  in 
their  presence!  I  thank  God  many  a  time 
for  giving  me  to  work  with  a  handful  of 
clean-minded  men — you  are  one — and 
women  like  the  true  "lady"  I  have  just 
written  about.  "Blessed  are  the  pure  in 
heart" — and  they  that  company  with  them! 
Sincerely  as  always, 

The  Dominie. 
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Letters  From  the  Dominie 

August  2y. 

My  Friend: 

We  are  on  our  way  home  at  last,  having 
spent  a  last  Sabbath  in  this  great  city. 

There  is  one  thing  you,  as  a  layman,  will 
never  know,  and  that  is  the  deep  pleasure 
the  preacher  gets  out  of  sitting  for  a  Sun- 
day or  two— not  much  more— in  the  pew 
and  hearing  other  men  preach.  It  is  one  of 
the  treasured  delights  of  my  vacation  every 
summer. 

On  Sabbath  morning  I  heard  a  great  ser- 
mon from  a  noted  preacher.  I  have  long 
wanted  to  hear  him;  and  he  is  well  worth 
hearing.  He  preaches  the  gospel,  and  with 
power. 

But  the  sermon  was  marrea  by  the  atmos- 
phere of  the  church.     I  did  not  feel  the 
close,  oil-smelling  air  of  our  little  church 
in  the  mountains  half  as  much  as  I  did  the 
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heavy,  gloomy  solemnity  of  this  beautiful 
church.  Somehow  there  seemed  to  be  a 
straining  after  a  deeply  religious  effect. 
Windows,  high  pulpit,  order  of  service,  the 
very  back  of  the  sexton,  the  very  expression 
on  the  faces  of  the  ushers,  all  seemed  to  be  a 
bit — a  bit  overdone.  On  the  way  home  I 
thought  of  what  had  happened  at  the  Spring 
meeting  of  a  certain  Presbytery. 

The  unfortunate  victim  of  the  stereotyped 
annual  "narrative"  was  making  his  report, 
doing  a  good  best  to  make  dead  figures  live, 
when  he  mentioned  a  certain  church. 

He  said  it  had  reported  its  condition  as 
"devotional." 

Then  he  proceeded  to  show  what  had 
happened  during  the  year  in  this  "devo- 
tional" church.  It  had  received  no  addi- 
tions to  its  membership ;  it  had  not  increased 
its  gifts  to  benevolences ;  it  had  no  unusual 
development  along  spiritual  lines  to  an- 
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nounce ;  but — it  was  intensely  ^'devotional." 
Funny,  is  it?  Hardly  so.  I  thought  it 
was,  at  first  hearing;  but  it  has  stuck  to  my 
mind  ever  since  and  I  have  had  time  to 
think  about  it;  and  I  have  a  strong  suspi- 
cion that  this  particular  church  is  afflicted 
with  a  disease  that  is  none  too  rare.  It  is^a 
form  of  delusion.  The  patient  appears  to 
be  exceedingly  religious;  loves  the  dim  re- 
ligious light  in  which  one  can  hardly  see 
to  read  a  hymn ;  delights  in  the  vague,  sen- 
suous, mystical  hymns  that  mean  little  or 
less ;  enjoys  a  sermon  composed  of  sweetness 
and  light,  without  the  seasoning  of  strong 
doctrine ;  is  pleased  to  sing  fervently  of  the 
blood  of  Jesus,  yet  is  shocked  by  the  plain 
statement  of  the  atonement;  prizes  a  stained 
glass  window  above  the  contrite  heart  of  a 
sinner;  shudders  at  the  crude,  rude  methods 
of  a  Billy  Sunday;  worships  before  the  im- 
ages of  Liberalism,  Toleration  and  Social 
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Service;  and  is,  withal,  deeply  "devotional." 
"It  is  not  thus  that  souls  are  won,"  not 
thus  the  Kingdom  is  enlarged,  not  thus  the 
Lord  Christ  glorified.  A  chnrch  that  can- 
not show  at  the  end  of  the  year  a  gain  of  a 
dollar  in  gifts  or  a  person  in  membership 
is,  if  a  "devotional"  church,  rendering  its 
devotions  before  some  other  than  Jesus 
Christ.  Devotion  to  Him  brings  results; 
and  the  more  complete  the  devotedness,  the 
larger  the  results.  There  is  a  vast  differ- 
ence between  the  devotion  that  feels  re- 
ligious because  it  sits  in  a  comfortable  pew 
and  enjoys  a  pleasant  service,  and  the  devo- 
tion that  is  religious,  surrendering  life  itself 
to  the  Lord  Jesus. 

Yours, 

The  Dominie, 


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September  J. 
Dear  old  Friend: 

Home  again!  The  town  is  deserted;  the 
trains  are  packed;  the  automobiles  skurry- 
ing  through,  seaward  or  hillward  bound, 
are  legion.  For  us  who  stay,  the  weather 
is  hot  and  close.  I  am  glad  you  can  be 
away  over  Labor  Day.  You  will  need  the 
rest,  for  I  mean  to  set  you  to  work  as  soon 
as  I  can  get  my  hands  upon  you! 

I  like  Labor  Day,  for  I  like  an  excuse  for 
preaching  on  Work.  I  have  been  reading 
that  half-cynical,  wholly-wise  first  part  of 
Ecclesiastes : 

"What  profit  hath  man  of  all  his  labor 
wherein  he  laboreth?" 

Isn't  that  a  fine  text  for  Labor  Sunday? 

I  have  so  often,  seeing  these  white-faced 

men  and  women  plodding  home  from  office 

and  shop,  asked  myself  the  same  question. 

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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


Why  do  they  live  thus?  What  is  this  urg- 
ent task  for?    What  is  the  use  of  it  all? 

Some,  I  know,  are  at  work  to  keep  alive. 
God  pity  them!  Clerks,  laborers,  women 
and  children  in  the  sweatshops,  how  many, 
many  there  are!  Think  of  it:  it  is  a  hun- 
dred years  since  Tom  Hood  wrote  "The 
Song  of  the  Shirt,''  but  the  conditions,  the 
victims,  are  here  still. 

"Work — work — work, 

Till  the  brain  begins  to  swim; 
Work — work — work, 

Till  the  eyes  are  heavy  and  dim" — 

and  on,  on  without  rest,  all  to  keep  soul  and 
body  together.  What  terrible  pathos  there 
is  in  work  done  for  this  mere  motive! 
What  profit  have  the  workers? 

Some  work  to  grow,  in  pocket,  in  body,  in 
mind.     They  seek  more  than  bread  and  but- 
ter; they  seek  personal  profit.     And  this,  I 
think,  is  sadder  still.     Some  of  the  men  you 
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are  thrown  with  are  doing  just  this,  working 
to  get  what  they  can  out  of  it.  And  what 
do  they  get?  One  died  last  week:  his  prop- 
erty goes  to  another,  after  all  these  years  of 
straining  effort!  One  lives  in  his  library, 
stuffing  his  selfish  skin  with  literary  hors 
d'oeuvres — to  whose  profit?  I  knew  a  fel- 
low at  college  who  was  to  be  found  in  the 
"gym"  every  day  at  work  on  the  "muscle 
machines";  he  gained  a  marvellous  set  of 
muscles;  but  he  never  played  at  anything 
and  never  made  a  team!  What  profit  out 
of  all  his  labor?  "He  that  saveth  his  life 
shall  lose  it!" 

There  are  those,  too,  who  toil  for  human- 
ity's sake,  God  bless  them!  Far  be  it  from 
me  to  discount  any  genuine  "social  service." 
As  latterly  used  the  phrase  nauseates  me; 
but  I  know  plenty  of  people  (there  are  more 
to-day  than  this  old  world  ever  saw  before!) 
who  are  true,  unselfish  social  servants.  It 
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is  at  this  point  that  work  begins  to  bring  in 
profit.  Not  financial  nor  tangible,  but 
mighty  real,  a  profit  in  the  joy  of  life,  the 
consciousness  of  truest  usefulness.  He  who 
loves  neighbor  as  self  will  make  his  work 
bring  in  permanent  profit. 

But  it  is  those  who  stop  here,  in  their 
motive  for  work,  who  have  put  a  stigma 
upon  the  phrase  "social  service.^  The  ulti- 
mate profit  comes  after  all  to  the  man,  the 
woman,  who  is  consciously,  heartily,  serving 
God  in  his  work.  "Daughter,  thou  sweep- 
est  well  My  floor."  You  remember  it? 
To  wield  pen  or  shovel,  needle  or  mop,  to 
the  glory  of  God;  to  feel  assured  of  playing 
a  part  in  the  fulfilment  of  God's  great  Plan, 
is  to  win  from  work  an  immeasurable  profit 
in  the  consciousness  of  fitness,  usefulness, 
and  in  the  deepest  peace  of  mind  and  heart. 
These  profits  are  permanent,  eternal  income, 
for  the  laborer  works  on,  under  divine  su- 
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pervision,  eternally.  *'His  servants  shall 
serve  Him."  What  a  blessed  epitome  of  the 
life  of  heaven  and  of  its  rev^ards! 

There  are  so  many  little  folk  doing  little 
things,  fit  (in  this  world)  only  for  little 
things!  I  w^ish  they  could  all  be  made  to 
feel  how  truly  God  must  value  them  and 
their  labor.  Not  the  matter  nor  the 
method,  but  the  motive — this  is  the  vital 
point  that  settles  what  return  shall  come 
from  work. 

**Our  tongues  were  fashioned  for  Thy  word, 
Our  hands  to  do  Thy  will  divine ; 
Our  bodies  are  Thy  temples,  Lord; 

The  mind's  Immortal  powers  are  Thine; 

"Its  highest  thought,  to  trace  Thy  skill; 
Its  purest  love,  on  Thee  to  rest; 
Its  noblest  action  of  the  will, 

To  choose  Thy  service  and  be  blest." 

Sincerely  your  friend, 

The  Dominie. 
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September  10, 
My  Friend: 

Do  not  think  that  when  I  urged  you  to 
"get  things  going"  I  failed  to  appreciate 
how  hard  it  is  to  get  up  steam  in  the  autumn. 

One  day  this  summer  I  missed  my  train 
and  had  to  spend  some  hours  at  a  lumber 
town  away  up  in  the  mountains.  With  a 
packet  of  nuts  for  luncheon,  I  spent  the 
noon-hour  in  a  great  silent  mill  whose  busi- 
ness was  the  cutting  and  shipping  of  pulp- 
wood  for  the  making  of  your  daily  news- 
paper. One  o'clock  came.  A  whistle 
blew.  Men  appeared  from  every  direction, 
popping  up  stairways  and  chutes,  rising 
from  their  hidden  seats  on  log  piles.  An- 
other whistle;  the  clanking  and  grinding  of 
chains  and  gears,  the  whirring  of  knives; 
and  in  less  than  one  minute  from  the  second 
whistle  every  man  was  at  work  in  his  place! 
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Our  summer — the  church's  unwillingly 
taken  noon-hour — is  over.  The  whistle 
blows.  The  machinery  of  our  societies  and 
clubs  begins  to  move.  Great  things  are  to 
be  done,  can  be  done,  will  be  done,  if  we, 
feeling  our  personal  responsibility,  are  all 
"on  the  job"  from  the  sound  of  the  whistle. 

There  are  advantages  to  be  gained  by  the 
individual  and  the  church  that  can  quickly 
get  into  the  routine  of  things.  Yes — you 
need  not  smile — I  am  always  urging  our 
people  to  do  more  than  the  customary  thing; 
but,  after  all,  a  certain  routine  is  profitable. 

One  day,  not  long  ago,  we  were  motoring 
on  a  poor,  a  painfully  poor  mountain  road. 
It  had  been  raining  persistently.  The 
black  dirt  roadway  was  soft  and  greasy  all 
the  way,  and  where  an  occasional  spring  was 
determined  to  cross  the  road  the  deep  ruts 
were  deeper  still.  The  man  at  the  wheel 
tried  for  a  while  to  keep  out  of  those  smooth 
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hollows.  He  ran  along  this  side,  but  the 
car  skidded  off  toward  the  ditch.  He 
crossed  and  tried  the  other  side,  but  the  op- 
posite ditch  had  equal  fascination  for  the 
heavy  car.  At  last  he  dropped  back  into 
the  ruts,  leaned  back  and  heaved  a  deep 
sigh,  and  remarked,  "I  guess  I'll  let  her 
travel  in  the  rut.  It's  a  good  deal  safer  on 
a  road  like  this." 

We  have  all  of  us  valid  objections  to 
"falling  into  a  rut" — ^valid  when  the  "rut" 
means  an  improgressive  indifference.  God 
keep  this  church  out  of  such  ruts ! 

But  there  is  a  very  definite  sense  in  which 
it  will  be  a  good  thing  for  us  and  for  the 
church  if  we  can  quickly  and  easily  drop 
back,  after  the  summer's  rest  and  change, 
into  the  routine  of  our  church  activities.  It 
is  safer  ordinarily  to  stick  to  routine  than 
to  try  other  methods.  It  is  far  more  profit- 
able after  a  holiday  to  make  oneself  get  into 
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the  accustomed  swing  of  things  at  once  than 
to  hesitate  and  fidget  and  groan  over  the 
compulsion  of  work. 

Here  we  are  at  the  opening  of  our  au- 
tumn work.  Before  October  has  fairly 
started  every  activity  of  this  church  ought  to 
be  in  full  swing.  That  means  that  you  will 
at  once  pick  up  the  accustomed  tools  and, 
without  grumbling  or  complaint,  start  in. 
Let  us  waste  little  time  over  preliminaries. 
Most  of  the  planning  is  done;  the  rest  can 
be  done  quickly.  I  know  the  reluctance 
with  which  busy  people — many  of  them  too 
busy — start  in  with  the  church  work  in  the 
fall.  It  is  largely,  I  think,  because  they 
have  not  had  a  full  rest.  But  I  know,  too, 
that  all  of  us  will  be  the  happier,  and  the 
church  will  be  the  more  prosperous,  if  we 
all  combine  to  swing  at  once  into  the  routine 
of  things.  On  a  rough  road  the  car  in  the 
rut  will  often  make  greatest  speed,  and  will 
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in   all   probability    ride   the   more    easily. 

This  must,  with  God's  help,  be  the  best 
year  by  far  the  church  has  known.  As  the 
master  wrote  in  crayon  across  the  drawing 
of  his  sleeping  pupil,  "AmpliusI" — 
^^Larger,  broader!" — so  let  us,  looking  back 
on  the  past  year,  write  across  its  record  the 
same  word:  "Amplius!"  Bigger  things, 
better  things,  this  year  for  us  all.  The 
work  waits — for  you!     Begin  it  aright! 

I  have  mixed  my  metaphors,  perhaps,  but 
I  trust  my  meaning  is  plain.  Do  your  part 
in  starting  things.         Cordially, 

The  Dominie, 


September  ly. 
My  Dear  Man: 

I   hope  you  won't  be  hurt — I   do   not 
greatly  mind,  in  fact  I  shall  be  pleased,  if  I 
shock  you — by  my  saying  that  your  excuses 
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will  not  hold  water.  I  want  to  shock  you, 
shock  you  out  of  the  too  large  class  of  non- 
workers  in  the  church. 

Oh,  yes,  I  know  you  are  a  trustee,  and  I 
do  know  that  you  are  genuinely  interested ; 
but  you  are  not  lifting  a  finger  in  any  spe- 
cifically religious  service.  Tell  me  one 
thing  you  have  done,  one  word  you  have 
said,  along  this  line  in  the  past  year.  Am  I 
right? 

Then  I  am  going  to  make  a  request  of 
you.     It  is  simply  this:     Consider  Peter. 

There  is  no  record  of  any  delay  or  demur 
on  Peter's  part  on  that  momentous  day  when 
Jesus  called  him  from  his  boat  and  his  nets, 
saying,  "Follow  Me,  and  I  will  make  you 
a  fisher  of  men."  This  was  not  a  call  to 
mere  allegiance:  Peter  had  already  obeyed 
that  call.  This  was  a  call  to  service,  to  ac- 
tual work  in  Jesus'  Kingdom;  and  Peter  did 
not  hesitate. 

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I  can  imagine  quite  easily  that  many  peo- 
ple, members  of  Jesus'  Church,  would  stam- 
mer and  stutter  and  at  last  come  out  with 
some  excuse;  and  they  would  utter  it,  at 
least  in  some  cases,  in  all  sincerity,  thinking 
it  a  good  one.     I  can  almost  hear  them: 

"I  haven't  the  right  temperament." 
Neither  had  Peter!  But  by  the  grace  of 
God,  Peter,  through  years  of  patient  service, 
developed  it.  Jesus  called  Peter  to  active 
service  in  spite  of  his  many  faults  of  char- 
acter. 

"I  haven't  a  good  enough  appearance." 
Neither  had  Peter!  A  fisherman,  and  a 
Galilean,  of  all  things!  God  has  a  way  of 
choosing  and  using  ^^the  base  things  of  the 
world,  and  the  things  that  are  despised." 
Jesus  called  Peter,  in  spite  of  appearances, 
to  active  service. 

^^I  haven't  the  education,  the  polish." 
Neither  had  Peter!     I  have  known  hun- 

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dreds  of  workers  in  the  Church  and  Sun- 
day-school, and  I  have  watched  the  results 
of  their  work;  and  I  am  frank  to  say  that 
"grace"  in  a  worker  counts  for  a  thousand 
times  more  than  "polish."  Jesus  called 
Peter  to  active  service  in  spite  of  his  lack 
of  polish. 

"I  haven't  the  social  position."  Neither 
had  Peter!  You  do  not  need  it.  If  you 
happen  to  have  it,  it  is  a  fine  asset  for  a 
Christian  at  work;  but  if  you  have  it  not, 
remember  that  most  of  the  work  of  the 
Church  has  in  all  ages  been  done  by  the 
rank  and  file.  "Not  many  mighty,  not 
many  noble."  Aye,  Peter  was  called  in 
spite  of  lack  of  social  position. 

"I  haven't  the  specialized  training  neces- 
sary." Neither  had  Peter!  You  do  not 
need  it!  We  have  a  very  silly  idea  in  our 
heads  to-day  about  "specialists" — silly,  cer- 
tainly, so  far  as  most  of  the  affairs  of  the 
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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


Church  are  concerned.  Practically  all  of 
the  most  efficient  workers  in  Christ's 
Church  have  been  no  specialists,  but  simple, 
humble,  praying,  Bible-loving,  soul-desir- 
ing Christians.  Peter  was  called  to  active 
service  in  spite  of  utter  lack  of  special 
equipment. 

There  is  work  to  be  done  for  Jesus  here 
in  this  church.  It  calls  for  workers.  You 
need  not  worry,  my  friend,  over  any  unfit- 
ness on  your  part;  follow  Jesus  into  service, 
and  He  will  make  you  fit. 

Yours, 

The  Dominie, 


September  24, 
My  Friend: 

I  wish  I  could  work  a  wonder  in  this 
day.     Do  you  know  what  it  would  be?     It 
would  be  to  transform  a  certain  prayer- 
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meeting  pessimist  into  an  all-around  opti- 
mist. Why  is  it  that  some  folks  cannot  even 
talk  with  God  in  a  cheerful,  hopeful  tone  of 
voice? 

Of  course,  the  pessimist,  like  the  poor,  is 
always  with  us ;  but  he  is  not  nearly  so  good 
company  as  the  other  ubiquitous  person,  es- 
pecially in  prayer-meeting!  I  meet  him  in 
many  places.     So  do  you. 

He  talks  politics,  and  we  feel  as  if  the 
country  were  going  to  ruin;  business,  and 
we  are  sure  the  bottom  has  dropped  out  of 
the  industrial  world;  household  matters, 
and  we  are  convinced  that  every  grocer  and 
butcher  is  a  thief;  or  religion,  and  we  feel 
that  the  Church  is  going  fast  to  decay  and 
that  God  is  in  desperate  straits! 

The  worst  thing  about  this  doleful  spirit 
is  its  contagiousness.     Put  the  pessimist  in 
a  workshop,  and  shortly  all  the  men  are  dis- 
satisfied; he  has  spread  the  contagion.     Put 
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him  in  the  church,  and  in  no  great  time,  al- 
though things  have  been  moving  smoothly, 
there  begins  to  be  a  general  spirit  of  unrest, 
of  dissatisfaction.  Half  of  those  who  are 
dissatisfied  do  not  know  why — it  is  simply 
because  the  pessimist  has  been  around! 
Pessimism  is  not  comfortable  unless  it  is 
making  every  one  else  uncomfortable.  Its 
voice,  iterating  and  reiterating,  gives  by 
mere  force  of  repetition  a  fictitious  value  to 
its  statements. 

But  surely  if  the  pessimistic  spirit  is  out 
of  place  anywhere,  it  is  in  the  Church  of  the 
living  God.  For  no  one  need  expect  flaw- 
less perfection  in  the  Church  on  earth  until 
Christ  comes  again.  There  is  here  no  per- 
fect music,  nor  perfect  sermon,  nor  perfect 
ventilation,  nor  perfect  society,  nor  even  a 
single  perfect  Christian!  It  is  the  glory  of 
the  Church  that,  with  all  its  faults,  it  is 
chosen  and  used  by  its  Lord  as  the  divinely 
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appointed  tool  for  His  hand.     And  the  ul- 
timate triumph  of  the  Church  is  sure : 

*'Gates  of  hell  can  never 

'Gainst  that  Church  prevail. 
We  have  Christ's  own  promise, 
And  that  cannot  fail." 

This  is  true.  But  it  is  also  true  that  the 
spirit  of  disquiet,  of  discontent,  of  pessi- 
mism can  greatly  hamper  the  progress  of 
the  individual  congregation.  It  ought  to 
be  easy  to  choose  between  the  force  which 
confuses  and  delays  and  that  which  en- 
courages and  advances  the  cause  of  Christ. 
Better  a  trowel  of  mortar  than  a  dynamite 
bomb.  Let  us  cultivate  a  cheery,  consistent 
optimism  all  through  this  church!  There 
are  so  many  fine  things  to  be  said  of  it!  It 
has  not  for  years  been  in  such  good  condi- 
tion, financially,  numerically,  spiritually. 
Undoubtedly  it  has  its  weaknesses,  and  we 
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would  be  extremely  foolish  to  blind  our  eyes 
to  them ;  but  we  can  best  remedy  them,  not 
by  harping  on  them  forever,  but  rather  by 
quietly,  heartily,  persistently  filling  each  his 
place  in  the  church's  activities.  One  is 
surer  to  be  an  optimist  in  the  church  if  he 
finds  something  to  do  in  it. 

And  we  ought  not  to  forget  that  opti- 
mism, as  well  as  pessimism,  is  contagious. 
Spread  it!  Be  a  "promoter"  of  the  right 
sort,  an  enthusiast  for  your  church.  It  is 
Christ's  church;  and  the  optimist  can  serve 
Him  in  it  far  better  than  the  pessimist  can. 

I  have  been  reading  Isaiah  the  Optimist. 
What  an  inspiriting  challenge  he  issues  to 
Israel  on  Jehovah's  behalf:  "Enlarge  the 
place  of  thy  tent,  and  let  them  stretch  forth 
the  curtains  of  thy  habitations;  spare  not: 
lengthen  thy  cords  and  strengthen  thy  stakes. 
For  thou  shalt  spread  abroad  on  the  right 
hand  and  on  the  left."  To  a  nation  (and  a 
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Church)  fearing  reverses  and  planning  "re- 
trenchment" came  this  stirring  advice: 
Plan  for  larger  things,  not  smaller!  Build 
your  tent  bigger;  make  its  curtains  longer; 
splice  a  length  to  your  tent-cords;  drive 
stouter  tent-pegs;  for  you  are  going  to 
grow  I 

With  all  my  heart  I  believe  that  at  the 
beginning  of  this  new  church  year  we 
should  make  this  verse  from  Isaiah  our 
watchword.  For  many  years  this  church 
has  been  living  under  the  same  tent,  with- 
out being  obliged  to  lengthen  her  cords  or 
strengthen  her  stakes.  Membership  has 
been  about  the  same,  growing  a  little,  but 
not  growing  in  proportion  to  the  growth  of 
the  town.  Spiritual  power  has  grown  per- 
haps at  no  faster  rate.  The  old  tent  is  still 
more  than  big  enough — unless  it  be  on  the 
side  where  the  Sunday-school  lodges. 

Now  it  is  time  that  we  expected  to  grow. 
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We  have  been  looking  forward  to  an  au- 
tumn and  winter  very  much  like  last  year. 
Let  us  look  forward  henceforth  to  a  very 
different  one.  Let  us  plan  for  larger 
things,  finer  things.  Let  us,  like  Carey, 
^^Expect  great  things  from  God."  We  have 
not  had  faith  enough  in  the  past.  We  have 
assumed  that  God  could  not  soften  a  heart 
or  convert  a  sinner  in  this  church.  We 
have  thought  it  folly  to  plan  for  enlarge- 
ment. But  that  is  wrong.  We  ought  to  be 
expecting  God  to  fill  a  larger  tent;  and  we 
ought  to  plan  accordingly.  The  churches 
that  grow  have  planned  for  growth. 

Cordially, 

The  Dominie, 


October  7. 
My  Friend: 
One  of  the  strange  facts  about  our  mod- 
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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


em  religious  life  is  the  common  assumption 
"that  he  is  an  ill-balanced  man  who  shows 
any  emotion  in  religious  concerns."  If  you 
should  catch  your  neighbor  in  church  with 
tell-tale  tears  upon  his  cheeks,  you  would  in 
all  probability  put  him  down  as  a  man  of 
more  feeling  than  sense.  If  you  are  asked 
to  sing  a  hymn  phrased  in  a  more  jubilant, 
exalted  tone  than  the  more  sober  "devo- 
tional" hymns  you  are  used  to,  you  are  irri- 
tated. And  if  the  man  in  the  pulpit  tries, 
apparently,  to  stir  up  your  feelings,  you  feel 
indignant. 

Why?  You  inject  emotion  into  every- 
thing else  in  the  world.  Why  should  not 
the  woman  who  goes  into  raptures  over  a 
successfully  baked  cake  put  a  little  feeling 
into  her  religion?  Or  the  man  who  yells 
himself  hoarse  on  the  bleachers,  why  should 
he  not  show  feeling  when  he  views  the  grace 
of  God  in  Christ?  You  throw  in  feeling 
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generously  in  business,  pleasure,  politics; 
why  not  in  religion? 

And  do  not  forget  that  nothing  in  your 
life  goes  so  deep  into  your  soul  as  does 
Christian  experience.  The  consciousness 
of  pardon,  the  new  sense  of  peace,  the  in- 
tensity of  spiritual  conflict,  the  contempla- 
tion of  the  manifold  grace  of  God  in  Christ 
— oh,  there  is  matter  here,  my  friend,  to 
make  you  forget  your  conventions  and  to 
rock  the  very  foundations  of  your  being 
with  feeling.  If  there  is  one  person  who 
proves  himself  sane  by  the  evidence  of  emo- 
tion, it  is  the  true  Christian.  If  there  is  one 
place  where  emotion  is  in  place,  it  is  the 
House  of  God.  I  wish  that  more  of  our 
people  might  be  moved  so  that  they  could 
not  hide  their  feelings. 

The  late  General  Booth,  that  wonderful 
organizer  of  the  Salvation  Army,  was  asked 
why  he  and  his  Army  directed  their  appeal 
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so  strongly  to  the  emotions.  He  answered 
promptly:  ^^Because  that  is  the  greatest 
factor  in  human  life." 

He  was  right,  plainly  right.  Look  about 
you  and  see.  What  moves  men?  Cold 
truth?  No ;  truth  warmed  by  burning  emo- 
tion. Will  any  stump  speaker  in  the  back- 
woods or  in  a  city  district  be  content  to  try 
to  win  men  to  his  political  faith  by  the  mere 
statement  of  hard  facts?  He  gives  them  the 
facts,  if  he  has  them ;  but  he  gives  them  the 
impassioned  appeal  of  his  oratory,  whether 
he  has  the  facts  or  not.  Does  the  lawyer  in 
the  courts  disdain  the  opportunity  to  grip 
the  hearts  of  the  jurors?  He  knows  well 
that  eleven  of  the  twelve  will  be  led  by  their 
hearts  more  than  by  their  heads. 

Or  take  another  point  of  view.  Does 
your  banker,  engineer,  clerk,  grocer,  black- 
smith, make  a  success  of  his  business  when 
he  declines  to  be  stirred  to  any  enthusiasm? 
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Does  your  general  or  your  army  win  with- 
out being  swept  along  by  cyclonic  emotion? 
Was  ever  anything  worth  doing  accom- 
plished without  the  doer  having  put  his 
heart  into  it?  Was  ever  any  great  truth 
driven  home  to  a  man^s  mind  without  his 
being  thrown  almost  off  his  feet  by  the  emo- 
tion stirred  up  by  its  impact? 

And  yet  we  expect  to  become  robust,  ener- 
getic, purposeful,  successful  Christians 
while  we  decline  to  permit  of  the  stirring 
of  our  emotions!  We  expect  to  win  the 
world  to  Christ  without  stirring  our  own 
hearts  or  the  hearts  of  those  we  would  win! 

It  is  arrant  nonsense,  this  conception  of 
cold-blooded  Christianity.  Did  Moody 
preach  in  cold  blood,  or  his  converts  accept 
Christ  in  cold  blood?  Was  it  so  with 
Spurgeon,  Wesley,  Whitefield,  Savonarola, 
Paul?  Did  Jesus  preach  in  cold  blood? 
Did  His  hearers  accept  His  gospel  thus?  or 
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was  He  afire?  Did  not  His  converts  some 
of  them  weep,  and  bathe  His  feet  with  their 
tears,  and  some  go  leaping  and  shouting  for 
joy?  Cold-blooded  Christianity  is  dead;  it 
never  did  anything,  and  never  will  do  any- 
thing, worth  doing.  What  we  need  is  the 
very  thing  we  are  afraid  of,  to  be  disturbed, 
fired,  upset;  to  let  our  feelings  be  stirred, 
our  tears  loosed,  our  desires  awakened — it 
may  be  our  hearts  broken — for  Christ! 

Cordially, 

The  Dominie, 


October  8. 

My  Friend: 

I  have  been  rearranging  the  books  on  the 
shelves  of  my  study.  Our  good  old-fash- 
ioned housecleaning  makes  this  necessary 
every  spring  and  fall ;  but  I  do  not  object  in 
the  least.  I  like  to  have  a  good  excuse  for 
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putting  in  a  day  handling  my  books.  It  is 
like  running  in  on  old  friends  whom  one  has 
not  been  able  to  see  for  months,  for  I  have 
little  time  to  read  except  with  definite  aim 
toward  a  sermon.  And,  too,  it  enables  one 
to  make  new  acquaintances;  for  there  are 
always  books  on  one's  own  shelves  that  are, 
even  after  years,  total  strangers. 

Yesterday,  browsing  thus  while  I  sorted, 
I  ran  across  a^^Book  of  Anecdotes,"  the  gift 
of  a  friend  who  was  tenderly  disposing  of 
the  library  her  husband,  a  minister,  had 
left;  and  in  the  hodge-podge  of  it  my  eyes 
lighted  upon  an  old  friend.  It  was  the 
story  of  that  naval  captain  who,  calling  for 
volunteers  for  a  forlorn  hope,  thought  his 
men  all  cowards,  thinking  none  had  stepped 
forward  when,  while  his  eyes  were  lowered, 
every  man  had  done  so.  When  I  was  a 
youngster  I  loved  that  stirring  tale;  now  I 
find  it  even  more  stirring. 
1 80 


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I  wonder,  my  friend,  what  would  happen 
if  I  asked  my  people  to  show  their  loyalty 
to  Christ  Jesus  by  rising  or  just  raising  their 
hands?  Yet  why  not?  I  am  convinced 
that  it  would  do  us  all  good  if  we  were  com- 
pelled to  give  visible  sign  of  our  allegiance 
and  willingness.  The  "good  confession"  of 
Jesus  before  Pontius  Pilate  was  Paul's  en- 
couragement to  Timothy  to  be  steadfast  in 
his  open  allegiance  to  Jesus.  It  should  be 
to  us  as  well  an  argument  for  a  frank  and 
manly  confession  of  the  faith  that  is  in 
us. 

Why  should  the  people  of  the  Church  of 
Christ  hesitate  for  a  moment  when  they  are 
asked  to  show  their  devotion  to  their  Lord 
by  standing  up  or  by  raising  their  hands? 
Why  should  they  be  ashamed  to  let  the 
world  focus  its  eyes  on  their  confession  of 
Christ? 

You  sajr  it  is  unusual?    Granted.    What 
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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


of  it?  And  is  there  any  reason  why  it 
should  not  be  usual? 

You  call  it  sensational?  In  a  way,  yes; 
but  what  valid  objection  is  there  to  such  sen- 
sationalism if  it  assists  in  deepening  the  gos- 
pel's impression  on  the  mind  of  a  single 
man,  or  if  it  assists  a  single  soul  to  make  de- 
cision to  surrender  to  Jesus? 

If  you  personally  object  to  such  an  act,  or 
shrink  from  it,  let  me  put  to  you  a  plain 
question :  Since  you  do  not  care  to  show  in 
such  a  way  that  you  stand  with  Jesus  Christ, 
in  what  way  are  you  showing  it?  By  at- 
tendance at  church  on  Sunday  morning? 
Not  in  the  least;  for  all  the  world  and  his 
wife  goes  to  church  on  Sunday  morning; 
that  has  no  great  weight  as  a  confession  of 
Christ.  Well,  by  your  gifts  to  the  church? 
Not  in  the  least;  for  your  giving  is  between 
you  and  the  church  treasurer  and  God,  a 
private  concern.  Well,  by  partaking  of  the 
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Lord's  Supper?  It  is  true  that  in  so  doing 
you  "do  proclaim  the  Lord's  death  till  he 
come,"  but  is  it  a  very  open  proclamation? 
Is  it  not  rather  a  quiet,  somewhat  secluded 
act,  not  seen  by  many  of  those  who  should 
see  and  hear  our  confession?  Well,  by 
your  daily  life,  then,  you  confess  Christ? 
To  make  this  true  it  must  be  that  your  life  is 
different  from  and  strikingly  better  than  the 
life  of  your  worldly  neighbor.  Is  it  so? 
Then,  if  it  is,  you  are  "witnessing  a  good 
confession." 

But  there  is  a  confession  to  be  witnessed 
not  only  through  the  character  of  your  daily 
life,  but  through  open,  clean-cut  words  and 
acts  specifically  intended  as  confession  of 
Christ.  Do  you  in  any  word  or  deed  ever, 
for  the  sake  of  drawing  others  to  Christ, 
proclaim  yourself  a  Christian?  If  you  do 
serve  Christ,  why  should  you  refuse  to 
spring  to  your  feet  for  his  sake?  It  is  time 
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for  us  to  risk  criticism,  laughter,  whatever 
comes,  if  by  any  means  we  may  help  to  turn 
the  scale  in  men's  minds  towards  Christ. 
Our  own  cowardice  keeps  many  from  Him. 

"Ashamed  of  Jesus  ?     Sooner  far 
Let  evening  blush  to  own  a  star. 

No ;  when  I  blush,  be  this  my  shame, 
That  I  no  more  revere  His  Name." 


Faithfully  yours. 
The  Dominie, 


October  75. 
My  Friend: 

Much  as  I  would  like  to  run  away  with 
you  for  an  afternoon,  I  cannot  do  it  now. 
I  am  ^'going  the  rounds."  I  like  to  call  at 
every  home  in  my  parish  early  in  the  fall, 
to  get  in  touch  again  as  quickly  as  possible. 
It  is  so  hard  for  the  dominie,  in  such  a  place 
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as  this,  to  get  more  than  a  cordial  speaking 
acquaintance  with  his  people! 

If  you  took  a  census  of  the  ministers,  you 
would  probably  find  that  all  of  them  con- 
sidered "pastoral  calling"  at  once  the  pleas- 
antest  and  the  hardest  of  their  duties. 

There  are  in  every  parish,  God  be 
thanked,  certain  homes  where  the  minister 
feels  it  the  keenest  pleasure  and  the  greatest 
privilege  to  be  allowed  to  enter.  When  he 
leaves,  it  is  with  a  thanksgiving  psalm  in  his 
heart  for  such  oases  in  the  social  wilderness. 

The  curious  thing  about  these  homes  is 
that  they  are  of  all  sorts.  Some  are  rich, 
some  poor.  In  some  sickness  is  rarely 
known;  in  others  it  is  a  permanent  guest. 
In  some  there  resides  a  continuous  pros- 
perity; in  others  pain  and  shame  and  an- 
guish are  frequent  visitors.  And  yet  all 
produce  the  same  blessed  effect  on  the  pas- 
tor when  he  steps  over  the  threshold. 
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It  is  not  because  they  give  him  a  more 
effusive  welcome  than  he  receives  in  other 
homes;  for  he  is  almost  invariably  kindly 
received.  In  twelve  years  I  have  had  dis- 
courtesy shown  me  at  only  one  door — and 
then  it  appeared  that  I  had  threatened  in- 
trusion on  a  card  party! 

It  is  not  the  kindly  reception  that  makes 
some  calls  peculiarly  pleasant.  It  is,  I 
think,  simply  this :  that  in  these  homes  relig- 
ion is  an  accepted  element  of  daily  life,  en- 
tering into  all  the  home  problems,  the  back- 
ground, and  the  foundation,  too,  of  every- 
thing. Enter  a  conservatory,  and  even 
blindfolded  you  will  know  where  you  are; 
just  so  the  sweetness  of  a  Christian  atmos- 
phere cannot  be  concealed  from  him  who  en- 
ters the  home.  These  people  who  live  here 
are  not  afraid  of  religion!  They  do  not 
feel  uneasy  (and  make  the  minister  feel  as 
they  do)  because  they  are  afraid  their  vis- 
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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


itor  will  ^'talk  religion."  They  live  on  re- 
ligion; it  is  meat  and  drink  to  them;  it  is 
breath  to  their  lungs;  it  is  a  reality  and  a 
necessity.     And  the  minister  feels  it. 

It  is  the  home  where  religion  is  a  mere 
matter  of  form,  where  the  emphasis  is  laid 
on  matters  wholly  worldly,  that  perplexes 
the  minister.  He  is  heartily  welcomed; 
every  one  is  friendly;  but  every  main  line  to 
vital  affairs  of  the  soul  is  deftly  turned  into 
a  sidetrack.  He  leaves  the  house  feeling 
that  he  has  failed  of  his  errand,  because 
these  hosts  of  his,  too  obviously  afraid  of 
"religion,"  have  declined  to  let  the  conver- 
sation possess  any  real  value. 

It  is  true  that  the  minister  will  often  talk 
religion.  He  thinks  it  the  finest  and  most 
necessary  subject  of  conversation  to  be 
found  in  all  the  fields  of  thought.  How 
silly  to  talk,  like  the  Walrus  and  the  Car- 
penter, 

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"Of  ships,  and  seas,  and  sealing  wax, 
And  cabbages  and  kings,'* 

leaving  the  affairs  of  pur  souls  untouched! 
Yet  many  people — Christians  too — will 
twist  and  squirm  (conversationally)  to 
avoid  any  approach  to  religion.  They  will 
let  the  dominie  into  the  reception  room  of 
their  life,  but  never  into  the  living  room! 

That  is  one  reason — I  grow  personal — 

why  I  like  to  cross  your  threshold.     You 

are  all  ultra-moderns,  but  still  you  are  not 

afraid  to  talk  of  the  things  most  worth  while. 

Sincerely,  as  always. 

The  Dominie, 


October  22. 
Dear  Friend: 

I  saw  you  smile  to  yourself  last  Sunday 
when  I  urged  people  to  come  to  prayer- 
meeting.     I  suppose  you  thought  it  a  use- 
i88 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


less  invitation;  you  may  feel,  as  many  do, 
that  prayer-meeting  is  out  of  date,  an  anach- 
ronism in  this  busy  modern  age. 

I  grow  weary  of  hearing  about  ^^modern 
conditions."  In  every  generation  since  the 
world  began  conditions  have  been  ^^modern 
conditions."  Every  age  has,  in  its  turn, 
been  ''this  modern  age."  But  humanity's 
basic  needs  have  not  been  observed  to 
change,  so  far.  I  am  convinced  that  as 
long  as  the  Church  shall  last,  so  long 
will  Christ's  people  need  the  prayer-meet- 
ing. 

No,  sir;  no  apologies  offered  for  this 
blessed  institution!  It  needs  none.  It  has 
a  place  of  its  own  to  fill,  and  a  very  im- 
portant place  at  that.  Some  people  think  it 
is  a  secondary  consideration,  a  suitable  toy 
with  which  to  satisfy  the  desires  of  a  few 
old-timers,  a  few  ultra-pious  people. 

On  the  contrary,  I  venture  the  assertion 
189 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


that  one  who  comes  in  the  proper  spirit  will 
probably  get  more  benefit  from  the  prayer- 
meeting  than  from  a  regular  church  service. 
This  just  because  of  its  informality.  It  is 
easy — and  often  unprofitable,  barren — to 
worship  God  in  formal  fashion;  but  an  in- 
formal service  brings  the  fact  of  worship 
nearer  home,  and  makes  prayer  less  a  part 
of  a  program  than  a  cry  of  need  or  a  psalm 
of  thanksgiving. 

And  is  it  this  very  informality  that  makes 
you  uncomfortable?  Afraid  you  may  be 
called  on  to  read  a  Scripture  verse  when 
you  can't  find  the  place?  Uneasy  when 
some  one  rises  to  speak  out  of  his  heart's 
depths?  A  wee  bit  ashamed  of  the  inti- 
macy of  it  all?  Precisely  so.  Don't  you 
see  that  this  is  in  itself  a  tacit  confession  that 
your  religion  is  itself  largely  formal,  and 
that  you  need  the  very  spirit  of  intimate 
fellowship  with  fellow-Christians  and 
190 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


closer  communion  with  God  which  are  man- 
ifest in  the  prayer-meeting? 

And  then,  is  a  Christian  only  to  get,  and 
never  to  give?  Beyond  any  doubt  you  have 
had  experiences  and  you  have  thoughts,  and 
you  can,  at  will,  have  power  in  prayer,  all 
of  which  your  neighbors  in  the  church  need. 

I  am  tired  of  having  Christian  people 
speak  and  act  slightingly  toward  the  prayer- 
meeting.  It  has  the  promise  of  Christ  to 
give  it  a  value  which  should  bring  all  of 
our  people  to  it:  ^'Where  two  or  three  are 
gathered  together  in  my  name,  there  am  I 
in  the  midst  of  them."  If  you  know  any- 
thing that  we  as  a  church  need  as  much  as 
we  need  the  presence  of  our  Lord,  you  ought 
to  tell  us  of  it.  If  you  don't,  you  ought  to 
do  all  in  your  power  to  secure  that  presence. 
The  prayer-meeting  is  one  of  your  oppor- 
tunities. Cordially  yours, 

The  Dominie, 
191 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


October  ZQ, 
Dear  Friend: 

It  is  easy  to  distinguish  faces  from  the 
pulpit.  A  minister  soon  gets  into  the  habit 
of  looking  over  the  congregation  during  the 
opening  service,  not  to  see  v^ho  is  on  hand, 
but  to  find  out  v^ho  is  missing. 

There  are  certain  members  of  this  con- 
gregation for  whom  I  have  long  looked  in 
vain;  some  of  them  belong  to  your  house- 
hold. They  are  as  much  members  of  the 
church  as  any  one  of  you;  they  are  in  more 
need  of  the  church  than  most  of  you;  and 
they  are  absent  through  no  fault  of  their 
own. 

Can  you  guess  who  they  are?  The  chil- 
dren of  some  of  our  homes. 

But  of  course  there  are  good  reasons  why 
they   are   not   here?     I    do   not   think   so. 
There  are  excuses  given  by  those  responsible 
192 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


for  their  absence;  but  there  is  no  good  rea- 
son, so  far  as  I  know. 

Why  aren't  they  here?  Parents,  take  the 
stand! 

^'Because  they  get  tired." 

Nonsense!  These  children  are  not  neu- 
rotics. You  take  them  to  a  three-hour  pan- 
demonium at  the  Hippodrome — infinitely 
worse  for  little  nerves!  The  trouble  is  that 
you  are  unwilling  to  take  the  trouble  to 
train  them  to  sit  quietly,  one  of  the  finest 
lessons  they  could  ever  learn. 

"But  I  had  too  much  church  when  I  was 
a  child." 

It  is  quite  possible  that  church  was  dull, 
or  that  you  were  not  taught  what  it  meant, 
which  would  result  in  the  same  dulness  for 
you.  But  if  you  had  once  had  too  much 
medicine,  or  had  it  given  in  a  wrong  way, 
would  you  never  give  your  child  medi- 
cine? 

193 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


^'But  my  children  are  restless,  and  would 
disturb  other  people." 

Possibly.  But  restlessness  is  not  de- 
creased by  absence  from  church,  nor — in  the 
case  of  ninety-nine  out  of  one  hundred  chil- 
dren— increased  by  attendance.  And  on 
the  other  hand,  it  will  not  matter  at  all  if 
a  few  people  are  disturbed ;  they  can  endure 
it,  and  they  ought  to,  for  the  sake  of  the  chil- 
dren. 

"But  the  children  don't  want  to  come." 

This,  too,  is  quite  possible.  But  it  has 
nothing  to  do  with  the  case.  Children  are 
not  to  be  expected  to  know  what  is  best  for 
them,  even  children  of  High  School  age  (I 
write  it  with  fear  and  trembling!).  And 
then,  have  you  done  anything  to  make  your 
children  understand  what  the  church  is? 
what  it  means?  what  dear  Presence  is  there? 

*^But  the  children  won't  understand  any- 
thing of  the  service  or  the  sermon." 
194 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


Pardon  me;  they  will  understand  far 
more  than  you  imagine.  ^The  thoughts  of 
youth  are  long,  long  thoughts.''  A  child's 
mind  is  fully  as  sensible  to  religious  truth, 
and  his  heart  to  religious  impressions,  as  to 
anything  else  that  comes  before  him.  In  all 
his  life  you  will  never  have  as  good  an  op- 
portunity to  train  the  best  side  of  his  nature 
as  you  have  now. 

Why  should  the  children  come  to  church? 
To  get  the  habit  of  coming,  a  habit  more 
easily  formed  now  than  ever  in  later  years ; 
to  gain  familiarity  with  the  forms  of  wor- 
ship, and  a  knowledge  of  the  great  and  no- 
ble hymns  of  the  church ;  to  become  used  to 
associating  with  Christian  people,  the  best 
element  of  society,  and  their  proper  ele- 
ment; and  to  "grow  in  grace  and  in  the 
knowledge  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus 
Christ." 

If  you  had  family  prayers  daily;  if  the 
195 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


open  Bible  were  an  accepted  fact  in  your 
home;  if  a  fine,  cheerful,  genuinely  relig- 
ious atmosphere  were  the  air  your  children 
breathed  at  home;  if  you  took  pains  to  teach 
them  the  great  truths  of  your  Faith,  then 
they  wouldn't  need  church-going!  So? 
My  friend,  as  long  as  the  Church  founded 
by  Christ  exists,  as  long  as  it  is  easier  to  turn 
God-ward  in  childhood  than  when  all  one's 
habits  are  formed,  just  so  long  will  it  be  a 
shameful  robbery  of  the  children  to  keep 
them  away  from  their  Father's  House. 

There  is  another  side  to  this  grave  ques- 
tion. 

One  day,  before  I  had  reached  my  'teens, 
I  received  orders  from  headquarters  to 
spend  part  of  my  Saturday  looking  over  the 
potatoes  down  cellar.  The  bin  was  in  a 
dark  corner;  there  were  enough  potatoes  in 
it  to  make  any  boy's  back  ache;  but  there 
was  one  thing  about  those  potatoes  that 
196 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


made  one  forget  his  back.  Most  of  them 
had  sprouted,  and  their  slender,  greenish- 
white  arms  were  stretching  out  towards  the 
light — all  of  them,  mind  you,  towards  the 
light — bending  over  in  the  direction  of  the 
narrow  window  across  the  cellar.  And 
some  had  sent  out  longer  arms  than  others ; 
two  feet,  four,  five,  six — eight  feet  long  they 
ran  across  the  cellar  floor  to  reach  the  light; 
and  if  they  had  been  left  to  themselves  for 
another  month,  they  would  have  been  found 
trying  to  climb  the  wall  under  the  window, 
still  striving  to  come  to  the  light. 

It  is  no  far  cry  to  a  place  where  children 
are  found  pathetically  groping  after  the 
light.  Too  many  homes  will  do  for  the 
spiritual  counterpart  of  the  dark  potato  cel- 
lar. The  child  enters  the  home  with  a  God- 
given  appetite  for  the  truth.  He  is  a  ques- 
tion mark  incarnate,  a  rightly  inquisitive 
soul  reaching  out  for  the  truth  about  his 
197 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


ever-expanding  universe.  And  his  loving 
parents  at  once  put  this  tender  soul  in  the 
potato  cellar.  They  are  irritated  by  his 
questions,  nagged  by  his  never-ending  curi- 
osity; and  they  shut  him  up,  literally  and 
figuratively  both.  '^Children  should  be 
seen  and  not  heard,"  is  dinned  into  him  until 
he  begins  to  feel  that  it  is  a  breach  of  good 
manners,  not  to  say  a  sin,  for  a  child  to  ask 
a  question.  He  v^ould  like  to  know  about 
everything  he  sees  and  hears — how  things 
grow;  who  made  them;  whether  babies 
come  from  heaven ;  where  God  is ;  why  we 
can't  see  God ;  what  makes  some  men  stag- 
ger when  they  come  home  at  night;  etc.,  ad 
lib,;  but  he  has  no  chance  to  know,  for 
father  and  mother  have  put  him  in  the 
farthest  corner  of  the  soul-cellar,  and  only 
the  least  bit  of  light,  murky  and  vague,  can 
reach  him. 
This  is  the  exceptional  home?  God  for- 
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Letters  From  the  Dominie 


give  us,  it  is  more  nearly  the  average  Chris- 
tian home.  How  many  Christian  parents 
take  time,  thought  and  pains  to  let  the  light 
of  the  great  truths  of  life  in  on  the  soul  of  a 
child?  How  many  actually  introduce  their 
children  to  the  friendship  of  their  living, 
present  Saviour?  How  many  do  not  leave 
the  most  delicate  questions  of  physical  and 
spiritual  life  to  the  secret  whispered  confer- 
ences of  playground  and  back  alley?  How 
many  actually  enlighten  the  souls  of  their 
children?  Not  very  many.  Some  are  ut- 
terly selfish;  it  is  too  much  trouble  to  ex- 
plain things.  Some  are  unable,  and  are  un- 
willing to  confess  it.  Some  deceive  them- 
selves with  the  thought  that  it  is  the 
Church's  business.  Some  dodge  responsi- 
bility because  the  children's  queries  bring 
out  the  parents'  own  inconsistencies  of  liv- 
ing. Few  lead  their  children  to  the  light. 
But  the  child  differs  from  the  potato. 
199 


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His  outreachings  towards  the  light  grow 
feebler,  and  soon,  to  all  practical  purposes, 
cease.  Having  little  light,  he  becomes  for 
life  a  creature  of  darkness.  His  parents 
find,  when*  he  is  in  his  'teens,  that  he  does 
not  like  church  and  religion.  Why  should 
he?  His  soul  is  not  used  to  the  light. 
They  find  that  he  has  somehow  obtained 
false  standards  or  developed  alarming  hab- 
its. Why  not?  And  he  grows  to  manhood 
with  his  soul  in  the  dark — and  content  to 
stay  in  the  dark,  which  is  the  worst  of  it! 
What  else  could  be  expected? 

The  cellar  of  ignorance  and  false  ideals 
is  no  place  for  the  aspiring  soul  of  a 
child.  ^Whosoever  shall  cause  one  of  these 
little  ones  that  believe  on  Me  to  stumble,  it 
were  better  for  him  if  a  great  millstone  were 
hanged  about  his  neck,  and  he  were  cast  into 
the  sea."  Yours, 

The  Dominie, 
200 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


November  5- 
Old  Friend: 

I  suspected  that  you  would  not  agree 
with  all  of  my  sermon  on  Sabbath-keeping. 
— a  suspicion  of  narrowness  about  me,  nicht 
wahr? 

I  wonder  if  you  realize  two  things:  the 
extent  to  which  our  Christian  Sabbath  has 
been  broken  down,  and  the  power  the  Sab- 
bath has  been  as  an  institution  in  history? 
Before  you  call  me  narrow,  look  up  these 
points;  then  we'll  get  together  for  a  '^con- 
fab"  over  the  matter. 

It  will  not  be  hard  for  you  to  discover 
conditions  in  our  community — open  shops 
and  stores,  amusements  going  full  blast,  the 
whole  atmosphere  a  holiday  one.  But 
there  is  one  condition  I  fear  you  may  not 
observe : 

Sunday  is  a  wide-open  day  in  the  homes 
20 1 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


of  some  of  our  Christian  people.  There 
are  many  homes  in  this  town,  where  father, 
mother  and  children  are  members  of  the 
Church,  where  the  Lord's  day  is  no  more 
than  a  common  holiday.  A  visitor  in  the 
house  would  have  difficulty  in  detecting  one 
single  act  or  event,  outside  of  the  morning 
excursion  to  Sunday-school  and  church, 
which  would  be  valid  evidence  of  the  pres- 
ence there  of  any  religious  atmosphere  or 
influence. 

There  is  one  habit  in  particular  which 
seems  to  me  to  be  absolutely  and  altogether 
wrong  and  pernicious.  It  is  the  habit  the 
boys  and  girls  have  of  doing  Monday's  les- 
sons on  Sunday.  It  is  the  usual  thing  in 
many  homes  where  a  more  Christian  be- 
havior might  be  expected.  Books  are 
brought  home  on  Friday  and  put  away  until 
Sunday  afternoon  or  evening,  when  they  are 
brought  out,  and  the  one  day  of  the  week 
202 


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which  God  gave  as  a  way  of  escape  and  rest 
from  secular  things  ends  up  with  algebra 
and  commercial  geography. 

What  a  fine  way  of  aiding  in  the  digestion 
of  the  Bread  of  Life  gotten  at  church  and 
Sunday-school!  What  a  fine  sort  of  en- 
deavor, to  go  from  a  Christian  Endeavor 
meeting  to  this!  What  a  glorious  prepara- 
tion these  youngsters  are  being  given  for 
getting  profit  out  of  their  Sundays  in  later 
years !  What  a  fine  opportunity  Christ  will 
have  of  using  their  time  when  they  are  al- 
lowed to  steal  His  time  now! 

What  are  we  to  expect  of  our  young  peo- 
ple ten  or  twenty  years  from  now,  when 
they  are  in  the  prime  of  life?  Why 
should  you,  who  close  your  office  over  Sun- 
day, let  your  son  keep  his  open?  And  when 
that  son  happens  to  be  a  Church  member 
(like  you),  doesn't  it  seem  worth  while  to 
let  him  feel  that  Sunday  is  too  good  for 
203 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


some  things?  You'd  have  to  reform  your 
own  Sunday?    Well? 

Just  there's  the  rub.  The  trouble  is  with 
the  general  attitude  of  our  Christian  par- 
ents :  that  they  do  not  sense  the  vital  poison 
in  the  atmosphere  of  compromise. 

As  to  another  point,  conditions  in  our 
community  life,  the  source  of  the  trouble 
is  identically  the  same.  The  authorities 
are  under  constant  temptation  to  cater  to 
the  lawless  and  irreverent  element.  But 
why? 

Gladstone  said  it  was  "the  duty  of  the 
government  to  make  it  easy  for  the  people  to 
do  right  and  difficult  for  the  people  to  do 
wrong."  That  appeals  to  us  all  as  sound 
doctrine.  But  it  cannot  be  realized  until 
our  Christian  citizens  make  their  will  felt 
for  the  right,  which  they  will  do  when  they 
themselves  cease  to  hold  civil  and  divine 
law  in  contempt.  For  while  responsibility 
204 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


for  our  lax  Sunday  lies  largely  with  the 
municipal  authorities,  it  lies  largely,  too, 
with  the  members  of  the  Church  in  the  com- 
munity. 

While  it  is  obvious  that  the  authorities 
should  not  cater  to  such  public  opinion 
as  demands  laxity  in  law  enforcement,  it  is 
even  more  obvious  that  public  opinion  of 
that  unworthy  sort  is  fostered  by  the  lax 
example  of  many  of  our  Church  members. 
The  professed  Christian  who  gets  his  Sun- 
day morning  shave,  trots  down  town  for  his 
Sunday  cigar,  treats  his  children  to  Sunday- 
purchased  soda  or  candy,  is  giving  his  open 
approval  to  habitual  lawlessness  and  is  him- 
self a  law-breaker.  No  amount  of  varnish 
will  hide  the  ugly  fact. 

There  are  a  few  facts  to  be  soberly  pon- 
dered in  this  connection : 

I.  Even  if  stores  and  shops  are  open  on 
Sunday  with  the  consent  of  the  public,  that 

205 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


fact,  while  it  puts  an  additional  responsi- 
bility on  the  store-keeper  and  the  official, 
does  not  lessen  the  responsibility  of  the  cus- 
tomer in  the  least  degree. 

2.  Even  if  other  people,  in  crowds,  pat- 
ronize Sunday  shops  and  stores,  that  fact 
does  not  take  away  a  jot  of  your  culpability 
if  you  do  so.  Being  one  of  a  crowd  does 
not  make  you  less  of  an  individual. 

3.  The  apparent  littleness  of  the  offence 
does  not  make  it  inoffensive.  The  purchase 
of  a  nickel's  worth  of  candy  on  Sunday 
seems  a  petty  affair;  but  it  is  a  big  affair  in 
reality,  being  the  proof  of  your  attitude  of 
mind  and  heart.  The  only  place  to  draw 
the  line  is  on  the  near  side  of  lawless- 
ness. 

4.  Your  personal  convenience  as  a  factor 
dwindles  into  nothingness  when  you  are  con- 
fronted with  the  law  of  your  State.  The 
formulated  will  of  the  people  is  an  infinitely 

206 


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bigger  and  more  sacred  thing  than  the  whim 
of  one  man. 

5.  You,  as  a  Church  member,  represent 
your  Church  in  the  eyes  of  the  community. 
But  every  branch  of  the  Church  represented 
here  has  protested,  through  its  national  or- 
ganization, against  the  open  Sunday.  If 
you,  then,  patronize  the  Sunday  store,  you 
injure  the  honor  of  the  Church  of  Christ. 

6.  You,  as  a  Church  member,  are  doubly 
bound  to  observe  the  law.  For  you  are 
openly  pledged  to  obey  not  only  the  civil 
law  but  the  moral  law  of  God ;  and  it  would 
puzzle  the  cleverest  lawyer  to  justify  the 
man  who,  so  pledged  to  observe  a  higher 
law,  is  found  to  be  habitually  breaking  a 
lower  one  based  upon  the  higher. 

Think  the  matter  over.     It  is  not  a  small 

matter  at  all.     It  is  the  question  of  basic 

public  morality;  and  on  its  answer  hinges 

much  of  the  future  welfare  of  the  town. 

207 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


Think  it  over;  and  see  if  it  is  not  your  part 
to  take  a  higher  stand. 

Heartily  yours, 

The  Dominie, 


November  12, 
Bear  Man: 

It  did  my  heart  good  to  hear  you  speak 
out  in  such  fiery  style  during  the  discussion 
at  the  Men's  Club.  I  wish  more  of  our 
men  felt  so  strongly  about  the  evils  that  ex- 
ist in  our  community.  I  have  no  patience 
with  the  man  who  never  finds  due  provoca- 
tion to  whole-souled  anger. 

I  like  the  stalwart  doctrine  of  the 
Apostle:  "Be  ye  angry — and  sin  not." 
This  is  rather  startling,  at  first  sight;  yet  the 
Bible  not  only  preaches  it  but  illustrates  it 
times  without  number.  On  certain  occa- 
sions God  is  pictured  as  filled  with  righteous 
208 


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wrath.  On  similar  occasions  Jesus  is  shown 
exhibiting  the  same  sort  of  anger — Jesus, 
meekest,  mildest  of  men!  Yet  we  are  bid- 
den to  cultivate  self-control,  meekness,  love. 
How  can  these  things  be  reconciled? 

The  anger  Jesus  shows,  the  anger  the 
Father  reveals,  the  anger  we  are  bidden  to 
cultivate,  is  simply  self-possessed,  judicial 
indignation  against  moral  evil.  Such  an 
emotion  must  be  a  part  of  any  lofty  and  pure 
moral  character.  It  is  revealed  to  us  as  es- 
sential to  the  very  character  of  God;  and 
we  are  urged  on  to  that  moral  height  where 
we  shall  find  it  a  part  of  our  character  too. 

Furthermore — and  this  is  the  important 
point — we  are  to  infer  that  the  lack  of 
ability  to  feel  such  righteous  anger  is  a  most 
lamentable  lack.  Its  presence  or  absence, 
when  occasion  arises,  is  a  striking  and  ac- 
curate test  of  the  genuineness  of  our  Chris- 
tianity. "Do  not  tell  me,"  writes  a  keen 
209 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


student  of  human  nature,  "that  a  man  loves 
virtue  and  purity,  in  whom  a  deed  of  shame- 
ful impurity  and  injustice  awakens  no  moral 
revulsion." 

It  is  proof  of  moral  dulness  or  obliquity 
when  one  can  pass  by  the  wounded  man  on 
the  Damascus  road  and  feel  no  anger 
against  those  who  have  treated  him  so  bru- 
tally. It  is  proof  of  the  low  level  of  our 
moral  aspirations  that  we  can  accept  with- 
out a  single  quiver  of  indignation  the  moral 
evils  past  which  our  steps  lead  daily,  the 
age-old  injustices  which  we  still  regard  as 
integral  parts  of  the  social  order,  as  our 
fathers  regarded  slavery. 

One  of  the  products  of  the  Christian's 
new  heart  is  inevitably  this:  the  ability  to 
feel  just  such  a  reasonable,  righteous  anger, 
not  at  personal  injuries,  but  at  the  great 
moral  evils  infesting  society.  He  who  can- 
not hate  a  great  wrong,  who  cannot  flame 

210 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


out  in  honest  wrath  at  it,  like  a  Wilberforce 
or  a  Wendell  Phillips,  a  Luther  or  a  Knox, 
like  Jesus  himself,  must  come  near  to  being 
looked  upon  by  God  as  morally  worthless. 

It  is  characteristic,  too,  of  such  anger  that 
it  is  no  mere  flash-in-the-pan.  It  is  a  fire 
that  continues  to  burn  while  the  evil  that 
causes  it  continues  to  exist.  Such  a  deep 
and  virile  emotion  Browning  had  in  mind 
when  he  cried : 

*'.  .  .  Endure  no  lie  which  needs  your  heart 
And  hand  to  push  it  out  of  mankind's  path." 

Cordially, 

The  Dominie, 


November  IQ. 

My  Friend: 

I've  been  dipping  again  into  the  pathos  of 
Robbie  Burns;  and  I've  found  a  most  pa- 
thetic thing.     When  the  poet  dropped  into 

211 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


a  pew  in  a  certain  church  he  found  nothing 
of  the  warmth  he  sought;  and  he  wrote  on 
the  fly-leaf  of  a  hymnal : 

"As  cauld  a  wind  as  ever  blew; 
As  cauld  a  kirk,  and  in't  but  few; 
As  cauld  a  minister's  e'er  spak' ; 
Ye's  a'  be  het  ere  I  come  backl" 

And  he  went  out.  No  one  knows  how 
greatly  his  sinful,  broken  life  might  have 
been  changed,  had  he  only  found  himself 
that  day  in  a  warm,  welcoming,  friendly  at- 
mosphere! 

It  so  happened  a  few  days  ago  that  one  of 
our  workers,  calling  on  a  family  of  one-time 
church-goers,  invited  them  to  attend  this 
church,  and  received  from  the  good-wife 
the  flat  answer:  "Oh,  the  churches  are  not 
for  poor  people." 

Also  it  so  happened,  not  many  days  before 
that,  that  when  I  urged  a  man  with  a  vicious 

212 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


habit  to  come  to  church,  I  received  the  an- 
swer, '*0h,  they  don't  want  fellows  like  me 
in  church!" 

Also  it  happened,  during  the  winter,  that 
I  invited  a  man  who  had  been  having  a  hard 
time  to  keep  the  wolf  from  the  door  to  come 
to  church ;  and  he  said,  "Oh,  my  clothes  are 
too  ragged.  They  don't  want  people  like 
me  in  church!" 

Also  I  have  been  hearing  such  remarks, 
off  and  on,  ever  since  I  entered  the  pastor- 
ate ;  and  I  do  not  like  them,  not  because  they 
are  not  sincere,  but  because  they  are.  Don't 
tell  me  that  these  people  who  say  such  things 
are  looking  for  excuses.  They  are  not. 
They  really  have  a  feeling  that  the  churches 
are  not  for  them. 

Is  it  so?  So  far  as  this  church  and 
ninety-eight  other  churches  out  of  a  hun- 
dred are  concerned,  it  is  decidedly  not  true. 
The  Church  is  Christ's,  instituted  by  Him 
213 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


for  the  distinct  purpose  of  reaching  and 
winning  and  developing  and  using — whom? 
All  sorts  and  conditions  of  men,  no  less. 

It  is  easy  for  the  well-to-do  churchgoer 
to  sit  back  in  his  pew  and  say  indignantly 
of  these  stay-at-homes,  ^What  nonsense! 
Let  'em  drop  their  pride!''  It  is  not  non- 
sense at  all.  Most  of  us,  had  we  been  in 
straitened  circumstances  for  years,  would 
have  developed  just  as  sensitive  a  cuticle. 
Most  of  us,  receiving  just  one  slight  from 
the  occasional  snob  found  in  church,  would 
show  to-day  that  we  possessed  far  more 
pride  than  the  man  who  does  not  feel  in 
place  in  the  church. 

And  it  is  easy  to  say  that  the  church — this 
church — is  a  democratic  institution.  It  is. 
There  are  in  it  people  of  every  walk  in  life, 
of  every  grade  of  pocketbook.  There  are 
few  churches  whose  membership  roll  will 
show  as  great  a  variety  of  occupations  and 
214 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


incomes;  and  we  take  honest  pride  in  the 
fact.  But  even  so,  is  there  not  something 
yet  to  be  done  to  make  the  man  of  whom  I 
am  thinking  feel  more  at  home  here? 

We  can  make  church-going  less  of  a  dress- 
parade.  There  is,  after  all,  no  reason  what- 
ever for  anything  more  than  decent,  quiet, 
unostentatious  dress  on  the  Lord's  Day. 
Too  many  people  excuse  their  silly  pride  in 
clothes  on  the  plea  that  they  dress  thus  in 
honor  of  God.  Isaiah  3  and  James  2  will 
help  us  to  see  how  it  is  possible  to  let  the 
glory  of  dress  overshadow  the  glory  of  God. 

And  we  can  lay  so  much  more  emphasis 
on  men's  souls  than  on  their  purses  that  they 
will  be  more  easily  convinced  of  what  is 
the  truth :  that  it  is  the  men,  the  souls,  we 
want,  and  that  we  want  them  for  Christ. 
It  is  the  truth,  but  we  have  not  always,  nor 
all  of  us,  shown  it  to  the  newcomer.  As  soon 
as  the  people  of  this  church  begin  agonizing 
215 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


for  souls  for  Jesus,  just  so  soon  will  the  poor 
man  forget  in  this  place  the  size  of  his  purse. 

And  we  can  go  out  of  our  way  to  make 
every  one  feel  that  he  has  a  place  here.  To 
be  sure,  we  have  been  doing  this;  we  can 
conscientiously  say  it;  and  the  church  has 
felt  the  benefit  of  this  access  of  welcome  and 
fellowship.  This  is  the  right  road.  Let  us 
pursue  it!  But  do  not  forget  that  the  man 
we  are  speaking  of  is  of  all  men  in  the  world 
the  quickest  to  discover  when  hospitality  is 
assumed.  It  is  the  genuine  article  he  craves 
— the  heart,  not  only  the  hand,  to  welcome 
him. 

We  do  not  all  dress  alike,  talk  alike,  or 
have  the  same  tastes ;  we  have  not  all  com- 
mitted the  same  sins ;  but  we  are  all,  never- 
theless, sinners ;  and  the  church  is  for  such. 
That  church  sins  against  Christ  himself  that 
is  a  "respecter  of  persons"  where  Christ  is 
not.  If  He,  the  Stainless,  could  eat  and 
216 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


drink  with  gross  sinners  as  well  as  with 
Pharisees,  if  He  could  spread  out  His  arms 
in  welcome  to  the  Magdalen  as  gladly  as  to 
the  rich  young  ruler,  surely  we,  who  are  not 
(to  say  the  least)  stainless,  can  not  afford 
to  make  distinctions,  especially  when  we 
are  under  orders  to  deliver  His  message  ''to 
the  whole  creation." 

Yours, 

The  Dominie, 


November  26. 
My  Friend: 

What  years  these  have  been,  these  last 
few!  Another  Thanksgiving  season  comes 
around,  and  for  what,  in  this  still  seemingly 
chaotic  world,  shall  national  gratitude  be  ex- 
pressed? 

The  one  thing  for  which  I  am  most  pro- 
foundly grateful   as   an  American  is  the 
217 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


vastly  increased  seriousness  with  which  we 
are  taking  ourselves.  I  know  that  the 
cynics  of  Europe  for  many  years  sneered  at 
our  idealism,  calling  it  mere  sentimentalism. 
But  I  rejoice  that  on  the  one  hand  we  have 
not  merely  retained  but  have  more  highly 
exalted  our  ideals  since  the  Great  War  be- 
gan, and  that  on  the  other  hand  Europe  has 
looked  to  us,  in  pathetic  reversal  of  her 
former  attitude,  as  the  one  nation  above 
others  best  fitted  by  its  ideals  and  its  very 
sentiments  to  serve  the  world  in  the  long 
crisis. 

You  remember  how  we  felt  when  the 
war  began?  From  unqualified  criticism 
of  the  aggressor  we  advanced  quickly  to  an 
analysis  of  the  life  and  ideals  of  all  the  na- 
tions represented  in  "the  far-flung  battle- 
lines."  I  soon  gathered,  from  what  I  heard 
and  read,  that  the  average  citizen  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  by  none  of  them  had  the 
218 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


title  "Christian"  been  any  too  well  won. 
And  then  the  men  with  whom  I  talked,  the 
papers  I  read,  veered  around,  in  their  think- 
ing, to  the  point  where  they  began  seriously 
to  examine  our  American  ideals  and  life, 
asking  themselves  soberly,  "Are  we,  as  a  na- 
tion, any  less  guilty  than  these,  our  brethren, 
across  the  water?"  "I  tell  you,"  said  one 
man,  a  man  of  insight,  to  me  (it  was  last 
Thanksgiving  Day),  "we  are  not  a  bit  bet- 
ter than  they." 

Our  Thanksgiving  Day,  coming  to  us  at 
that  time,  was  not  at  all  inopportune.  It 
provided  for  us  another  "quiet  hour,"  in 
which,  sobered,  chastened  by  events  over- 
seas, we  were  forced  to  turn  our  eyes  inward 
for  the  profitable  study  of  ourselves  as  a  na- 
tion. So,  each  year's  Thanksgiving  affords 
the  same  blessed  privilege. 

And  there  are  few  surely  who  now,  more 
than  a  year  or  two  ago,  are  so  blind  as  not  to 
219 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


see  that  the  exalted  position  of  a  superior 
nation  exempt  from  war's  ravages  by  her 
righteous  character  is  not  for  us  to  assume. 
We  are  tarred  with  the  same  brush  that  has 
tarred  Europe.  We  live  in  a  glass  house, 
and  can  ill  afford  to  throw  stones  across  the 
ocean.  Our  national  ideals  have  not  been 
altogether  Christian :  we  have  assumed  that 
compromise  is  necessary  on  many  points ;  we 
have  accepted  with  the  humility  of  a  Heep 
the  confident  assertions  of  our  men  in  pub- 
lic life  that  "Christ's  ideals  are  too  chimer- 
ical for  practical  men  to  follow  to  the  end." 
It  would  be  easy  to  point  out  our  sins; 
there  is  no  need.  The  most  sobering  con- 
sideration is  not  so  much  the  thought  of  spe- 
cific evils  as  the  consciousness  of  a  tendency, 
an  atmosphere,  that  is  not  easily  recognized 
as  truly  Christian.  That  spirit  of  pride, 
greed,  self-righteousness,  that  has  so  re- 
vealed itself  abroad,  is  found  here  at  home. 
220 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


It  is  not  easy  to  see  that  we  are  very  differ- 
ent, in  the  general  spirit  of  our  national  life, 
from  the  Christian  nations  that  have  been 
crucifying  Christ  anew  on  the  battlefields  of 
Europe.    We  call  ourselves  Christians;  but 

"A  daw's  not  counted  a  religious  bird 
Because  he  keeps  a-cawing  from  a  steeple." 

What  Jesus  demands  of  our  nation  to-day 
is  the  far  more  consistent  practice  of  Chris- 
tianity. And  the  fundamental  principle 
that  lies  back  of  such  practice  is  this :  Na- 
tional recognition  of  the  proposition  that 
the  standard  of  Christianity  for  a  nation  is 
not  one  whit  lower  than,  or  different  from, 
the  standard  for  a  man.  The  acceptance  or 
rejection  of  this  principle  is,  I  believe,  the 
touchstone  that  proves  a  nation  Christian  or 
non-Christian. 

I  said  that  I  was  glad  that  we  were  nearer 
to  realizing  our  ideals.     I  am  not  incon- 

221 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


sistent.  I  believe  that;  but  I  believe  that 
there  are  many  more  steps  to  take.  Europe 
is  right  in  one  criticism :  conceit  is  our  weak- 
ness. We  are  a  Christian  nation,  just  as  the 
individual,  though  a  sinner,  may  be  a  Chris- 
tian man ;  but  like  the  individual,  the  nation 
must  climb  St.  Augustine's  ladder.  You 
know  what  that  means. 

Faithfully  yours. 
The  Dominie, 


December  J. 
Dear  Friend: 

I  have  gone  back  to  my  boyhood,  reading 
again,  or  rather  devouring,  the  story  of 
David  Livingstone.  You  ought  to  dig  into 
it;  you'll  be  sure  to  dig  your  way  through. 
The  extracts  from  his  diaries  are  the  best 
parts — show  up  the  man,  lonely,  pathetic, 
22a 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


gifted  with  a  prophet's  vision  and  a  mar- 
tyr's devotion. 

Livingstone,  like  Dan  Crawford  of  later 
day,  learned  to  think  not  only  "black"  but 
deep,  during  those  long  years  in  the  tall 
grass  of  central  Africa.  Among  the  many 
pithy  sayings  of  those  diaries  of  his  there  is 
one  that  is  well  worth  stamping  on  our  men- 
tal tablets.     Here  it  is : 

"One  ought  to  endeavor  to  devote  the  pe- 
culiarities of  his  nature,  whatever  they  may 
be,  to  the  Redeemer's  service." 

That  pierces  pretty  deep  into  the  nature 
of  our  self-dedication  to  the  cause  of  our 
Lord  and  Master.  We  commonly  offer  to 
Him  the  usual,  the  commonplace  elements 
of  ourselves;  but  what  of  the  unusual?  the 
odd?  the  peculiar? 

Suppose — just  suppose — that  you  have  a 
violent  temper.  What  an  easy  thing  to 
offer  Jesus  all  but  that  temper!  to  leave  it 
223 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


still  violent,  still  uncontrolled,  still  master! 
But  to  give  to  Him  that  temper,  tying  it 
dov^n,  subduing,  controlling,  mastering,  till 
you  find  that  you  have  at  last  put  at  your 
Lord's  disposal  not  an  unwieldy,  unfit  thing, 
but  a  powerful,  determined  will,  under  con- 
trol and  useful  in  His  work — what  a  fine 
gift  is  thisl  You  have  made  of  your  un- 
couth peculiarity  a  valuable  asset  for  Christ. 

Or  suppose — we  are  merely  supposing — 
that  your  peculiarity  is  of  some  other  sort,  a 
queerness,  an  oddity,  which  has  marked  you 
as  "peculiar"  in  your  own  eyes  and,  as  you 
perhaps  rightly  think,  in  the  eyes  of  others. 
The  same  process  can  be  gone  through  with, 
you  shaping  and  getting  into  proper  control 
that  which  has  seemed  to  be  an  obstacle  in 
your  way,  until  of  it  you  have  made,  again, 
an  asset  for  Christ. 

We  are  too  sensitive  about  our  peculiar- 
ities, and  too  well  used  to  regarding  them  as 
224 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


obstructions  to  our  usefulness,  useless  in 
themselves.  Livingstone  managed,  by  the 
grace  of  God,  to  turn  some  of  his  unlovely 
qualities  into  lovely  ones,  some  of  his  ap- 
parently bad  qualities  into  good  ones.  His 
method  was  simple ;  he  gave  himself  to  God, 
entirely  to  God ;  and  he  endeavored  to  make 
every  side  of  his  nature  serve  God. 

A  good  program  to  follow!  There  is  a 
scarcity  of  people  who  are  not  possessed  of 
some  unlovely,  unfit  habits  or  characteris- 
tics. You  remember  what  the  old  Quaker 
said  to  his  wife:  ^^All  the  world's  peculiar 
except  thee  and  me;  and  sometimes  I  have 
doubts  of  thee."  All  of  us  are  needing  this 
Livingstonian,  or  better.  Christian,  disci- 
pline !  It  will  take  patience  and  prayer  and 
humility  and  good  courage ;  but  who  doubts 
that  it  is  well  worth  while  "to  devote  the  pe- 
culiarities of  his  nature,  whatever  they  may 
be,  to  the  Redeemer's  service"?  What  a  lot 
225 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


of  energy,  now  misspent,  would  be  turned 
into  right  channels  if  all  our  unruly  tempers 
were  harnessed  for  Christ!  What  a  vol- 
ume of  speech  and  song  for  Him,  if  all  the 
peculiar,  gossipy  tongues  were  trained  to  ce- 
lestial speech!  What  a  tremendous  object 
lesson  of  the  power  of  Christ,  if  physical 
weakness  or  peculiarity  or  pain  were  de- 
voted to  the  Redeemer's  service! 

Paul  accomplished  this  with  his  infirm- 
ity, whatever  that  was;  somehow  he  made 
that  infirmity  work  for  Christ.  Living- 
stone did  it.  We  can  do  it,  with  the  help 
of  Christ.     Sincerely, 

The  Dominie, 

December  10. 
My  Friend: 

May  I  tell  you  something? 
I  am  heartily  sick  of  hearing  our  people 
adopt  the  apologetic  tone. 
226 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


We — I  include  the  dominie  with  the  rest 
— do  altogether  too  much  of  that  sort  of 
thing. 

There  is  no  such  tone  in  your  voice  when 
you  invite  some  one  to  your  house,  or  to  the 
"movies,"  or  to  a  club  meeting.  You  urge 
it,  heartily,  enthusiastically.  Here  is  some- 
thing good;  and  you  want  them  to  share 
in  it. 

But  so  many  of  us  take  a  different  tone  in 
speaking  of  anything  religious.  We  are 
deeply  embarrassed  if  religion  be  touched 
upon  in  conversation,  and  we  gently  turn  the 
subject.  What  nonsense!  The  most  truly 
religious  people  are  just  like  children  in 
that  religion  is  to  them  the  natural  thing, 
not  out  of  place  anywhere.  Moreover,  you 
will  find  no  other  topic  so  weighty,  so  profit- 
able. 

We  evade  the  embarrassing  use  of  the 
names  "God"  and  "Jesus"  by  circumlocu- 
227 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


tions.  We  are  willing  to  talk  about  "the 
Lord,"  strange  to  say,  when  we  hesitate  to 
bring  Jesus  in  by  name. 

And  we  adopt  the  same  tone  in  asking  a 
friend  or  neighbor  to  come  to  church,  as  if 
to  say,  "Of  course,  I  know  it's  a  bother  to 
you  to  get  started;  and  I  appreciate  the  fact 
that  the  gospel  does  not  compare  with  the 
Sunday  paper;  and  it  may  be  the  minister's 
off-day;  but,  if  you  have  nothing  better  to 
do,  and  if  it's  a  good  day,  and  if  you  get  up 
early,  I  hope  you'll  come."  Who  would 
come  if  such  words  invited  him?  Yet  they 
are  implied  in  the  tone  and  casual  nature  of 
our  invitation. 

So,  too,  we  apologize  when  we  talk  per- 
sonal religion  with  a  man,  and  this  in  so 
many  words:  "I  know  I  am  intruding,  old 
man,  but  just  let  me  get  in  a  word.  .  .  ." 

Or  else  our  apology  takes  another  form: 
we  simply  avoid  direct  approach  to  religion, 
228 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


but  we  invite  the  man  to  the  Men's  Club,  or 
the  woman  to  the  Ladies'  Aid,  "to  get  ac- 
quainted"— and  then  we  stop. 

This  will  never  do!  Is  your  church  a 
thing  to  be  ashamed  of?  Is  the  gospel  to  be 
apologized  for?  Is  Jesus  to  be  carefully 
disguised  when  you  introduce  Him  to  your 
friends?  Let  us  cease  apology.  Your  Sav- 
iour, your  faith,  your  Church,  your  Bible, 
your  Christian  friends — none  needs  any 
such  thing.  It  is  time  for  us  to  show  our 
neighbors  that  we  have  the  greatest  thing  in 
the  world,  which  they,  too,  should  have. 
Out  in  the  West  cities  have  been  trans- 
formed by  what  you  smile  at  as  "Booster 
Clubs."  Ah,  but  there's  good  psychology 
back  of  the  "booster"  idea,  the  same  truth 
that  lies  back  of  good  salesmanship.  When 
people  act  and  speak  with  pride  and  en- 
thusiasm, others  are  impressed. 

Tell  us,  what  degree  of  conviction  and 
229 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


zeal  do  men  detect  in  your  voice  when  you 
speak  for  Christ? 

"Jesus,  and  shall  it  ever  be, 
A  mortal  man  ashamed  of  Thee? 
Ashamed  of  Thee,  whom  angels  praise, 
Whose  glories  shine  through  endless  days? 

"Ashamed  of  Jesus!     Yes,  I  may 
When  Fve  no  guilt  to  wash  away, 
No  tear  to  wipe,  no  good  to  crave, 
No  fears  to  quell,  no  soul  to  save. 

"Till  then — nor  is  my  boasting  vain — •- 
Till  then  I  boast  a  Saviour  slain  1 
And,  oh,  may  this  my  glory  be, 
That  Christ  is  not  ashamed  of  me !" 

Faithfully  yours, 
The  Dominie, 


1230 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


December  //. 
Good  Friend: 

For  weeks  past  the  postman  and  the  ex- 
pressman and  the  newspaper  have  advised 
us  that  Christmas  is  coming.  For  that  mat- 
ter, the  planning  and  whispering,  the  lock- 
ing of  drawers  and  closets,  the  amazing 
busy-ness  of  the  youngsters  and  oldsters  in 
our  own  homes,  would  have  been  sufficient 
to  remind  the  dullest  of  its  happy  approach. 

My  mind  has  been  dwelling  on  one  of  the 
great  anomalies  of  the  season.  For,  strange 
to  say,  there  are  some  people  in  this  Chris- 
tian land  to  whom  Christmas,  instead  of 
lightening  burdens,  brings  heavier  ones. 
We  think  of  it  as  the  one  happiest  day  in  the 
year. 


'Carol,  carol,  Christians, 
Carol  joyfully  1" 


231 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


We  expect  to  see  nothing  but  happy  faces, 
wreathed  in  smiles. 

But  there  are  some  who  will  heave  a  sigh 
of  genuine  relief  when  Christmas  is  over 
for  another  year. 

Who  are  they? 

Some  are  shop-girls,  errand-boys,  clerks, 
delivery  men,  postmen,  package  tiers, 
scrub-women — shall  I  go  on?  They  flinch 
from  the  thought  of  the  ^'holiday  season." 
They  think  at  once  of  late  hours  and  early 
hours,  of  a  rush  that  leaves  no  time  for 
meals,  of  solid  weeks  of  breathless  haste  and 
unbroken  weariness.  And  all  because  you 
and  I  and  the  rest  will  insist  on  putting  off 
our  Christmas  shopping  until  the  day  is 
upon  us.  If  you  want  to  give  such  people  a 
better  feeling  about  Christmas,  you  ought  to 
put  aside  your  convenience  and  consult 
theirs.  A  little  careful  planning,  a  little 
sacrifice,  and  you  will  have  done  your  part 
232 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


in  lightening  their  Christmas  burdens.  At 
Christmas-time  our  procrastination  is  the 
thief  not  only  of  our  time  but  of  other  folk's 
treasures  of  health  and  strength. 

Then  there  are  the  unhappy  people  to 
whom  Christmas  gifts  are  a  sort  of  social 
function,  to  be  sacredly  attended  to  at  any 
cost.  How  they  scheme  and  skimp;  how 
neatly  they  pass  on  year-old  undesirables 
(with  the  aid  of  the  eraser)  ;  how  they  groan 
under  the  obligation  to  send  Mrs.  X.  a  pres- 
ent because  she  sent  them  one  last  year! 
What  silly,  nerve-racking,  superficial  busi- 
ness this  is!  No  wonder  Christmas  is  a 
bugbear,  with  all  the  heart  taken  out  of  it  in 
this  fashion.  The  cure?  Sincerity,  noth- 
ing less. 

And  then  among  the  unhappy  ones  are 
the  men  and  women  who,  holding  the  purse- 
strings  that  confine  moderate  incomes,  yet 
feel  bound  to  give  gifts  far  beyond  their 
233 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


means  in  number  and  price.  What  a  lot  of 
this  there  isl  People  with  a  $1,500  income 
suddenly,  for  the  week  before  Christmas, 
living,  so  far  as  purchases  go,  at  a  $5,000 
rate ;  and  the  $5,000  people  spending  money 
— or  ^^charging  it'^ — at  a  princely  rate! 
And  then  the  reckoning!  Bills  run  up  only 
to  be  paid  in  driblets  through  the  spring; 
other  bills  delayed  to  give  these  the  right  of 
way;  worry  and  care  a-plenty  into  the  bar- 
gain. Christmas  a  joy?  Not  for  these 
people!  The  cure?  Simplicity,  nothing 
less. 

There  is  something  for  us  all  in  the  spec- 
tacle of  people  who  do  not  feel  unalloyed 
joy  in  the  thought  of  Christmas.  God 
keep  us  from  being  of  their  number  and 
from  contributing  to  the  causes  of  their  lack 
of  joy  at  Christmas-time. 

Cordially, 

The  Dominie. 
234 


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December  24, 
My  Friend: 

Do  you  remember  the  name  our  early 
Anglo-Saxon  ancestors  gave  to  the  day  on 
which  they  celebrated  the  birth  of  Jesus? 
''Christ's  Mass"  they  called  it.  The  very 
meaning  of  the  v^ords  sets  it  above  all  ordi- 
nary holidays  and  festivals. 

Christmas  is  a  holiday.  There  is  no  fes- 
tival known  to  our  civilization  that  is  so  rich 
in  social  customs  and  pleasures.  All  Chris- 
tendom tries  to  reach  home  before  Christ- 
mas! It  means  reunion,  gifts,  kindnesses, 
smiling  faces,  happy  hearts;  it  conjures  up 
visions  of  a  table  groaning  with  good  things, 
a  row  of  stockings  stuffed  out  to  grotesque- 
ness,  a  tree  glittering  and  blazing  and 
topped  by  Santa  Claus. 

But  did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that  most  of 
our  Christmas  customs  have  come  to  us 
235 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


from  heathenism?  When  Christianity  con- 
quered the  Roman  Empire  it  adopted  and 
transformed,  for  its  use  at  Christmas-time, 
some  of  the  old  Roman  customs.  When  the 
missionary  of  the  Cross  penetrated  the  for- 
ests of  Germany  he  found  our  ancestors 
keeping  their  great  Yule  festival  at  the  time 
of  the  winter  solstice,  when,  as  they  thought, 
the  gods  of  earth  and  air  began  to  stir  into 
life  again  as  the  fiery  sun-wheel  began  to  re- 
turn towards  spring.  And  the  preacher  of 
Christ,  while  he  won  these  forefathers  of 
ours,  borrowed  their  Yule-tide  customs  and 
cleansed  them  and  transformed  them. 
Back  of  our  Christmas  feast,  our  Christmas- 
tree,  our  Christmas  plays  and  pantomimes, 
our  Christmas  carols,  there  is  the  story  of  a 
wonderfully  beautiful  transformation  of 
things  heathen,  unclean,  to  the  service  of 
Christ  on  Christmas  day.  The  very  social 
customs  and  pleasures  of  your  Christmas 
236 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


;(your  Christmas  dinner  included)  are  elo- 
quent of  the  power  of  your  Saviour. 

And  Christmas  is  a  holy  day.  That  is 
the  original  meaning  of  the  word  "holiday," 
and  it  holds  true  in  regard  to  Christmas.  It 
is  a  holy  day.  It  is  a  day  of  good  feeling, 
of  merriment;  it  is  rightly  our  great  social 
festival  for  high  and  low,  rich  and  poor; 
but  it  is  more:  it  is  the  day  which  com- 
memorates the  birth  of  our  Saviour.  There 
is  a  contagious  happiness  about  the  season 
in  which  all  people  share ;  but  there  is  a  pe- 
culiar happiness  about  it  in  which  only 
those  who  know  Jesus  and  love  Him  can 
ihare. 

It  is  surprising,  when  one  stops  to  think, 
how  much  of  mere  sentiment  can  be  given 
to  Him  and  to  his  Birthday,  while  every- 
thing beyond  sentiment  is  withheld.  To 
feel  the  heart  stirred  by  the  sweet  harmonies 
of  Christmas  carols ;  to  be  moved  to  an  un- 
237 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


wonted  benevolence ;  to  feel  a  vague,  unac- 
customea,  yet  not  unpleasant,  exaltation  of 
spirit  for  a  fortnight — this  is  very  far  from 
the  tribute  Jesus  asks  and  deserves.  To 
bring  our  reverent  and  kindly  sentiments  out 
for  a  Christmas  airing,  and  no  more?  To 
become  temporary  Scrooges — renovated,  but 
for  the  holidays  only?  Surely  this  is  but 
v^orthless  sentimentality  if  this  is  all. 

A  Merry  Christmas  to  you!  And  may 
it  be  the  kind  of  merriment  that  springs  from 
a  heart  that  has  good  right  to  be  joyful,  a 
heart  right  with  God  and  man.  The  cheer- 
iest handshake,  the  brightest  smile,  the  sin- 
cerest  greeting,  the  heartiest  laugh,  at  this 
season  of  laughter  and  good  cheer,  should  be 
his  who  has  interchanged  gifts  with  his  Fa- 
ther, receiving  the  unspeakable  Gift  that 
was  given  on  Christmas  Day,  and  giving  in 
turn  the  incalculable  gift  of  self.  May  they 
be  yours  I 

238 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


*'I  have  brought  to  thee,  down  from  my  home 
above, 
Salvation  full  and  free,  my  pardon  and  my 
love. 
Great  gifts  I  brought  to  thee  ; 
What  hast  thou  brought  to  Me  ? 

*'0h,  let  thy  life  be  given,  thy  years  for  Me 

be  spent; 
World-fetters  all  be  riven,  and  joy  with  suf- 
fering blent. 
I  gave  myself  for  thee; 
Give  thou  thyself  to  Mel" 

Cordially, 

The  Dominie. 


December  JT. 
My  dear  Friend: 

Here  we  are  at  the  year's  end,  facing  the 
unknown,  like  a  certain  ancient  traveller 
with  whom  you  are  acquainted. 

Paul  is  at  the  wharf.     The  elders  of  the 
239 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


church  of  Ephesus  have  walked  the  thirty- 
six  miles  to  Miletus  to  say  good-by.  They 
are  afraid  for  his  future;  but  he  is  not 
afraid:  ^'Now,  behold,  I  go  bound  in  the 
spirit  unto  Jerusalem,  not  knowing  the 
things  that  shall  befall  me  there:  save  that 
the  Holy  Spirit  testifieth  unto  me  that  .  .  . 
bonds  and  afflictions  abide  me.  But  I  hold 
not  my  life  of  any  account  as  dear  unto  my- 
self, so  that  I  may  accomplish  my  course." 

The  last  bale  and  cask  are  aboard.  Paul, 
rising  from  his  knees,  tears  himself  from 
the  tearful  embrace  of  his  friends  and  steps 
on  deck.  The  gangplank  is  withdrawn — 
*'Cast  off!"     So  Paul  sails  into  the  future. 

In  much  the  same  way  we  ought  to  begin 
the  year. 

The  ship  is  getting  under  way;  willy- 
nilly,  we  are  passengers;  and  we  know  not 
what  lies  before  us.  The  future,  even  the 
morrow,  is  hidden.  Bonds  and  afflictions 
240 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


may  await  us  too ;  or  the  more  insidious  trials 
of  prosperity  and  ease  may  lie  before  us  I 

But,  while  we're  casting  off,  what  of  the 
old  year?  Few  can  speak  as  confidently  as 
Paul  of  the  record  of  the  past — ^'serving 
the  Lord  with  all  lowliness  of  mind,  with 
tears,  with  trials,  shrinking  not."  We  have 
made  a  muddle  of  the  old  year.  It  has  a 
sorry  tale  to  tell  bf  unfinished  work,  of 
wasted  energies,  of  follies  and  sins.  What 
of  it?  Just  this:  set  it  right,  and  at  once, 
with  God.  *'If  any  man  sin,  we  have  an 
Advocate  with  the  Father,  Jesus  Christ  the 
righteous."  Let's  start  the  new  year  with  no 
uncomfortable  past  as  luggage. 

And  for  the  unknown  before  us?  Just 
what  Paul  did:  go  straight  ahead  into  it, 
whatever  may  come,  ^'holding  not  our  life 
of  any  account  as  dear  unto  ourselves,  so  that 
we  may  accomplish  our  course."  There's 
Paul's  secret:  the  future  held  no  terrors 
241 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


for  him :  the  mystery  of  the  unknown  did  not 
blanch  his  cheek;  he  could  board  ship  and 
head  into  any  weather  with  perfect  confi- 
dence, because  he  was  on  the  path  of  duty. 
His  Lord  had  ordered  him  aboard;  and, 
dark  as  the  future  was,  aboard  Paul  went 
cheerily.  There  can  be  nothing  to  dread  in 
the  new  year  for  him  who  enters  on  it  with 
the  determination  to  serve  Christ  through  it 
all. 

"I  know  not  what  awaits  me; 

God  kindly  veils  my  eyes; 
And  o'er  each  step  of  my  onward  way 

He  makes  new  scenes  to  rise; 
And  every  joy  He  sends  me  comes 

A  sweet  and  glad  surprise. 

"I  see  not  a  step  before  me 
As  I  tread  on  another  year; 
But  the  past  is  In  God's  keeping, 
The  future  His  love  shall  clear; 


242 


Letters  From  the  Dominie 


And  what  looks  dark  In  the  distance 
May  brighten  as  I  draw  near. 

"So  on  I  go,  not  knowing; 

I  would  not  If  I  might; 
rd  rather  walk  in  the  dark  with  God 

Than  go  alone  in  the  light; 
I'd  rather  walk  by  faith  with  Him 

[Than  go  alone  by  sight.'* 

If  conscience  be  clear  and  you  be  bent 
on  the  Lord's  business,  no  need  to  wish  you 
a  Happy  New  Year:  it  will  surely  come. 

So,  throughout  the  New  Year,  old  friend, 
"the  Lord  bless  you  and  keep  you ;  the  Lord 
make  his  face  to  shine  upon  you  and  be 
gracious  unto  you;  the  Lord  lift  up  his 
countenance  upon  you  and  give  you  peace." 
Sincerely  your  friend. 

The  Dominie, 


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